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CIVILIZATION 


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THE  CONVENTIONAL  LIES 
OF  OUR  CIVILIZATION 


FROM  THE  GERMAN 


MAX  NORDAU 


"PARADOXES,"   "PARIS  SKETCHES," 


CHICAGO 
LAIRD  &  LEE,  PUBLISHERS 


•'ntered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1886.  tv- 

LOUIS  SCHICK. 
a  the  offioe  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


tsntered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1895,  by 

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Note  by  the  Translator. 


The  success  of  this  work,  which  from  its  very  nature,  can 
only  appeal  to  a  limited  circle  of  readers,  is  something  en- 
tirely without  precedent,  and  can  indeed  be  regarded  as  the 
literary  event  of  this  decade.  -Seven  editions  in  as  many 
months  show  the  excitement  and  eagerness  with  which  it 
was  welcomed  by  the  press  and  public  in  Germany — an  eager- 
ness that  was  only  increased  by  the  action  of  the  Austrian 
government  in  prohibiting  it  and  confiscating  all  copies  of  it 
to  be  found. 

It  touches  upon  all  the  problems  of  the  day  in  its  arraign- 
ment of  the  Lies  of  our  Civilization,  and  discusses  them 
with  a  liberality  and  audacity  which  are  both  fascinating 
and  refreshing.  Although  it  was  written  originally  for 
German  readers,  and  views  the  world  through  Teutonic 
spectacles,  yet  we  find  that  human  nature  is  the  same  the 
world  over,  and  that  the  existing  social,  political  and  eco- 
nomic institutions  are  nearly  if  not  quite  so  much  of  a  lie  in 
America  as  in  Europe,  although  we  can  congratulate  our- 
selves upon  the  fact  that  their  restraints  are  not  so  irksome 
in  this  land  of  comparative  liberty  and  plenty. 

The  contents  of  the  book  can  be  briefly  summarized  as 
follows: 

Chapter  I.  MENE,  TEKEL,  UPHAKSIN  (Thou  art  weighed 
in  the  balance  and  found  wanting.). — A  review  of  the  differ- 
ent countries  of  the  civilized  world,  art,  literature,  etc.,  with 
a  description  of  the  inherently  false  and  dismal  tone  and 
tendencies  of  our  age. 

II.  THE  LIE  OP  RELIGION.— A  criticism  of  religious 
worship,  which  at  the  same  time  expresses  respect  for  all 
genuine  convictions. 


2086585 


III.  THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY.— A 
gcathing  but  amusing  criticism  of  these  worn-out^nd  de- 
cayed relics  of  the  past. 

IV.  THE  POLITICAL  ^JE.— A  revelation  of  the  lack  of 
power  possessed  by  the  will  of  the  people  in  republics  as 
well  as  in  countries  with  other  forms  of  government.    A 
timely  and  entertaining  study  of  politics  in  all  their  phases. 

V.  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE.—  We  find  here  abundant  mate- 
rial for  thought.    The  author  traverses  the  entire  field  of 
political  economy  in  its  theory  and  practice,  advancing 
many  startling  paradoxes  and  propositions. 

VI.  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIE.— In   this  chapter  the 
author  expresses  many  of  our  own  una vowed  thoughts.    His 
original  treatment  and  his  courage  in  calling  things  by  their 
right  names,  render  this  chapter  one  of  exceptional  interest. 

VII.  Discusses  the  importance  and  abuse  of  the  power 
of  the  press,  the  duel  and  the  lies  of  our  social  intercourse. 


CONTENTS. 


Mene,  Tekel,  Upharsin.  ... 

The  Lie  of  Religion.                                      -         -  -31 

The  Lie  of  a  Monarchy  and  Aristocracy.        -         -  ?'0 

The  Political  Lie.                                -  146 

Tlie  Economic  Lie.                                  ...  193 

The  Matrimonial  Lie.      .....  269 


Preface  of  the  First  Edition. 

This  book  claims  to  be  a  faithful  presentation  of  the 
views  of  the  majority  of  educated,  cultivated  people  of  the 
present  day.  There  is  no  doubt  but  what  millions  living  in 
the  midst  of  our  civilization  have  learned  by  their  own  re- 
flection and  experience  to  regard  and  criticise  the  existing 
conditions  of  State  and  society  as  they  are  criticised  in  the 
following  pages,  and  will  coincide  in  the  opinion  expressed 
in  them,  that  the  present  social,  political  and  economic 
institutions  are  utterly  at  variance  with  the  views  and  con- 
captions  of  the  universe  based  upon  natural  science,  and 
therefore  untenable  and  doomed  to  destruction.  Notwith- 
standing this  fact,  the  author  knows  that  many  people  will 
hold  up  their  hands  in  holy  horror  when  they  read  it,  and 
not  the  least  ostentatiously  those  who  find  their  own  most 
secret  sentiments  expressed  in  it.  This  is  the  very  reason 
why  the  author  believed  that  it  was  necessary,  that  it  was 
imperative  upon  him,  to  write  this  book.  The  greatest  evil 
of  our  times  is  the  prevailing  cowardice.  We  do  not  dare 
to  assert  our  opinions,  to  bring  our  outward  lives  into  har- 
mony with  our  inward  convictions;  we  believe  it  to  be 
worldly  policy  to  cling  outwardly  to  relics  of  former  ages 
when  at  heart  we  are  completely  severed  from  them.  We  do 
not  wish  to  shock  anyone,  nor  offend  anyone's  prejudices, 
and  we  call  this  "respecting  the  convictions  of  others"— 
those  others  who  in  return  do  not  respect  our  convictions, 
who  ridicule  them,  who  persecute  them,  and  who  would  like 
best  to  exterminate  them  and  us  at  the  same  time.  This 
lack  of  sincerity  and  manly  courage  prolongs  the  period  of 
falseness,  and  postpones  indefinitely  the  triumph  of  truth. 
The  author  at  least  wished  to  fulfill  his  duty  to  himself,  to 
truth,  and  to  his  comrades  in  sentiment.  He  has  expressed 
his  convictions  openly  and  without  the  slightest  hesitation. 
If  all  tLcse  who  are  dissembling — acting  contrary  to  their 
convictions,  diplomatizing  and  feigning — were  to  do  the 
same  as  the  author,  they  would  find  perhaps  to  their  amaze- 
ment that  they  formed  the  majority  in  many  places,  and  that 
it  would  soon  be  to  their  advantage  to  lead  sincere  and  con- 
sistent lives,  instead  of  their  present  careers  of  hypocrisy  and 
double  dealing. 

In  ihf.  wmmtr  of  1883,  THE  AUTHOR. 


Preface  to  the  Sixth  Edition. 


The  Imperial  Council  of  Vienna  has  prohibited  the  fur- 
ther sale  of  this  book  in  Austria  and  confiscated  all  copies  of 
it  to  be  found.  The  official  decree  condemns  the  book  on 
account  of  the  "Crime  of  insulting  the  members  of  the 
imperial  family,"  the  "Crime  of  disturbing  the  public  peace 
by  attempting  to  arouse  contempt  or  hatred  for  the  person  of 
the  Emperor,  etc.,"  the  "  Crime  of  denouncing  religion,"  the 
"Crime  of  inciting  hostility  against  religious  communities, 
etc., "and  in  conclusion,,  the  "Crime  of  insulting  a  church 
and  sect  recognized  bv  the  State."  Every  word  of  these 
indictments  is  a  calumny  from  first  to  last.  It  is  not  true 
that  I  have  "  insulted  any  member  of  the  imperial  family;" 
it  is  not  true  that  I  have  attempted  to  "arouse  contempt  or 
hatred  for  the  person  of  the  Emperor."  I  do  not  attack  per- 
sons, neither  high  nor  low,  but  ideas.  Further  it  is  not  true 
that  I  have  disturbed  any  one  in  the  exercise  of  his  religion 
(how  could  a  book  do  this?)  nor  incited  hostility  against 
religious  communities — at  the  most  I  have  only  attempted 
to  arouse  compassion  for  them. 

I  wish  to  warn  those  people  who  would  never  read  this 
book  from  any  interest  in  the  questions  of  which  it  treats, 
but  who  may  perhaps  infer  from  its  suppression,  that  it  con- 
tains all  sorts  of  piquant  and  scandalous  things.  This  class 
of  readers  is  hereby  warned  that  this  is  not  the  case.  If  they 
spend  their  money  upon  this  supposition  they  will  be  disap- 
pointed. The  Vienna  committee  thus  commits  an  intentional 
or  unconscious  fraud  upon  the  public.  I,  at  least,  will  have 
DO  share  tn  it. 

FEB.  10, 1881 


Mene,  Tekel,  Upharsin. 


"MAN  never  is,  but  always  to  be  blest,"  and  perhaps 
at  no  time  was  he  so  far  removed  from  the  actual  attain- 
ment of  happiness  as  at  present.  Culture  and  civilization 
are  spreading  and  conquering  even  the  most  benighted 
regions  of  the  globe.  Those  countries  where  darkness 
reigned  but  yesterday,  are  to-day  basking  in  a  glorious 
sunshine.  Each  day  witnesses  the  birth  of  some  new, 
wonderful  invention,  destined  to  make  the  world  pleas- 
anter  to  live  in,  the  adversities  of  life  more  endurable, 
and  to  increase  the  variety  and  intensity  of  the  enjoy- 
ments possible  to  humanity.  But  yet,  notwithstanding 
the  growth  and  increase  of  all  conditions  to  promote  com- 
fort, the  human  race  is  to-day  more  discontented,  more 
irritated  and  more  restless  than  ever  before.  The  world 
of  civilization  is  an  immense  hospital-ward,  the  air  is  filled 
with  groans  and  lamentations,  and  every  form  of  suffer- 
ing is  to  be  seen  twisting  and  turning  on  the  beds.  Go 
through  the  world,  and  ask  each  country  you  come  to: 
"Does  contentment  dwell  here?  Have  you  peace  and  hap- 
piness?" From  each  you  will  hear  the  same  reply:  "Pass 
on,  we  have  not  that  which  you  are  seeking."  Pause  and 
listen  at  the  borders,  and  the  breeze  will  bring  to  your 
ears  from  each  one,  the  same  confused  echoes  of  contep- 
tion  and  tumult,  of  revolt  and  of  oppression. 


MENU,  TEKEL,  UPH  VR8IH. 

In  Germany  Socialisnuwith  myriads  of  tiny  teeth,  is 
stealthily  gnawing  at  the  columns  that  uphold  the  struct- 
ures of  State  and  society,  and  nothing,  not  even  the  allure- 
ments of  State  and  Christian  Socialism,  nor  the  countless 
traps  set  for  it  by  the  laws  and  the  police,  nor  the  state 
of  siege  in  the  capital,  can  disturb  for  a  single  instant, 
the  secret,  noiseless,  untiring  work  of  this  insatiable  sub- 
terranean destroyer.  The  Antisemitic  movement  was 
merely  a  convenient  pretext  for  the  gratification  of  pas- 
sions which  do  not  venture  to  show  themselves  under 
their  true  names — among  the  poor  and  ignorant  it  cloaked 
their  hatred  of  property  owners,  among  those  who 
enjoy  privileges  inherited  from  mediaeval  times — among 
the  aristocratic  classes,  it  disguised  their  jealous  fear  of  gif- 
ted rivals  in  the  race  for  influence  and  power,  and  the  roman- 
tic idealizing  youth  saw  in  it  a  means  of  satisfying  a  certain 
extravagant  and  false  ideal  of  patriotism  that  longs  not 
only  for  the  political  unity  of  the  German  Fatherland,  but 
also  for  an  ethnological  unity  of  the  German  people.  A 
secret  longing  that  has  been  hinted  at  a  thousand  times  but 
never  fully  explained,  drives  thousands  upon  thousands 
away  from  their  homes  to  cross  the  ocean.  The  stream 
of  emigrants  pours  forth  from  the  German  sea-ports  like 
the  life-stream  from  a  deadly  wound  in  the  body  of  the 
nation,  jet  after  jet,  in  constantly  increasing  volume,  and 
the  Government  is  powerless  to  arrest  or  control  it. 
The  political  parties  are  waging  a  barbaric  war  of  exter- 
mination upon  each  other;  the  prizes  for  which  they  are 
contending  are  the  conditions  of  the  Middle  Ages  and  an 
absolute  monarchy  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other,  the 
Nineteenth  Century  and  the  right  of  popular  suffrage. 

In  Austria  we  see  ten  nationalities  arrayed  agains' 
each  other,  each  seeking  to  injure  the  others  by  all  the 
means  at  its  command.  In  every  state,  even  in  every 


AFFAIRS  IN  RUSSIA..  O 

village,  the  majority  are  trampling  the  minority  under 
foot.  The  minority  succumbs  when  resistance  is  no 
longer  possible,  and  counterfeits  a  submission  which  con- 
ceals a  secret  intensity  of  rage  that  makes  them  long  to  com- 
pass the  destruction  of  the  Empire,  as  the  only  possibility 
of  relief.  In  Russia  there  is  such  a  condition  of  affairs  that 
we  can  almost  describe  it  as  primitive  barbarism.  The 
Government  is  deaf  to  every  suggestion  of  mutual  rights 
and  advantages;  the  public  official  has  no  care  for  the 
interests  of  the  country  and  of  the  people  that  are  con- 
fided to  him,  but  thinks  only  of  his  own,  which  he  shame- 
lessly promotes  by  robbery  or  theft,  and  by  corruptibility 
and  prostitution  of  the  laws.  The  cultivated 
classes  in  their  despair  have  grasped  Nihilism 
as  their  weapon  against  the  present  insupportable  state 
of  things,  and  risk  their  lives  again  and  again,  with 
dynamite  and  revolver,  with  the  dagger  and  the  torch  of 
the  incendiary,  to  precipitate  the  country  into  that  bloody 
chaos,  which,  in  their  delirium,  they  imagine  must  pre- 
cede the  establishment  of  a  new  system  of  society.  The 
statesmen  who  are  called  upon  to  devise  a  cure  for  this 
horrible  disease  propose  the  most  astonishing  remedies. 
One  guarantees  a  cure  if  the  Russian  people  be  declared 
of  age  and  invested  with  the  right  of  legislative  represen- 
tation; another  has  confidence  alone  in  a  decisive  leap 
backwards  into  the  slough  of  Asiatic  intolerance,  and 
demands  the  eradication  of  all  European  innovations, 
with  an  extension  of  the  power  of  the  sacred  and 
inherited  despotism  of  the  Czar;  a  third  believes  in  the 
efficacy  of  a  counter-irritant,  and  recommends  a  brisk, 
>nerry  war  against  Germany,  Austria,  Turkey,  or  the 
whole  world  combined,  if  need  be.  The  dark  mass  of 
the  people  however,  entertains  itself  by  plundering  and 
killing  the  Jews,  during  these  tedious  consultations  of  its 


4  MENE,  TEKBL,  UPHAKSIN. 

physicians  casting  greedy  glances  at  the  castles  of  the 
nobility,  while  it  is  destroying  the  taverns  and  synagogues 
of  the  Hebrews. 

In  England  the  ground  appears  solid  and  the  struc- 
ture of  State  firm,  to  a  superficial  observer.  But  if  he  lay 
his  ear  to  the  ground,  and  listen  to  the  muffled  strokes  of 
the  subterranean  giants  as  they  hammer  away  at  the  weak 
points  in  their  dungeons;  and  if  he  examine  the  walls 
closer,  he  will  see  that  underneath  the  varnish  und  gold 
plating,  dangerous  cracks  extend  from  top  to  bottom. 
The  Church  and  the  Aristocracy  of  rank  and  wealth,  are 
well  organized  and  firmly  allied  to  uphold  each  other, 
with  a  true  appreciation  of  the  identity  of  their  interests. 
The  middle  classes  bow  submissively  to  the  written  and 
unwritten  laws  of  the  dominant  caste,  are  outwardly 
eminently  respectable,  show  reverence  to  titles,  and 
swear  that  those  things  only  are  seemly  which  the  upper 
ten  thousand  approve,  every  thing  else  being  low  and 
vulgar.  But  the  laborer,  the  tenant,  stand  outside  the 
bonds  of  this  conspiracy;  they  demand  their  share  of 
capital  and  land;  they  form  clubs  of  free-thinkers  and 
republicans;  they  shake  their  fists  at  royalty  and  aristoc- 
racy, and  he  who  seeks  to  read  the  future  of  England, 
not  in  the  tea-grounds,  but  in  the  eyes  of  the  English 
working-man,  will  find  it  dark  and  threatening. 
Of  Ireland  I  need  not  speak.  The  revolution  against  land- 
lordism is  in  full  swing  there,  murder  rules  the  high- 
ways, and  if  the  English  Government  does  not  succeed 
in  drowning  out  the  inhabitants  in  a  sea  of  blood,  it  will 
be  obliged  to  witness  the  forcible  depossession  of  the 
land-owners  in  favor  of  the  landless  class,  which  will 
present  an  example  that  would  speedily  be  imitated  in 
England,  and  afterwards  in  many  other  countries. 

In  Italy  a  feebly  rooted  monarchy  holds  its  own  with 


AFFAIBS  IN  ITALY  AND  FEANCB.  O 

difficulty  against  the  rising  flood  of  Republicanism. 
The  Irredenta  sets  before  the  young  men  of  the  country, 
a  new  ideal  to  long  and  work  for,  to  take  the  place  of 
the  old  ideal  of  Italian  unity  which  has  now  become  a 
reality.  The  secret  sufferings  of  the  masses  are  revealed 
by  isolated  but  dangerous  symptoms,  such  as  the  Camorra 
and  Mama  in  the  south,  while  in  Tuscany,  they  assume 
the  form  of  religious  fanaticism,  and  of  the  communistic 
principles  of  primitive  Christianity. 

France  at  the  present  moment  can  congratulate  her- 
self upon  the  best  condition  of  political  health  of  any 
European  country;  but  how  many  incipient  symptoms  of 
disease  are  to  be  seen  even  there, — the  germs  of  coming 
evils.  On  every  street  corner  in  the  large  cities,  excited 
orators  are  preaching  the  gospel  of  Communism  and  vio- 
lence; the  masses  are  preparing  to  get  possession  of  the 
government  and  drive  the  ruling  bourgeosie  out  of  the 
snug  offices  and  sinecures  which  they  have  enjoyed  since 
1789,  and  to  take  their  places  in  the  legislative  assemblies. 
The  parties  of  the  old  regime  see  the  day  of  this 
inevitable  conflict  approaching,  and  strive  to  prepare  for 
it  by  half-hearted  plots  and  counterplots,  Jesuitical,  mon- 
archical and  military,  but  without  energy,  without  hope 
and  without  combination  in  which  alone  there  is  strength. 

There  is  no  need  to  speak  of  the  smaller 
tountries  in  detail.  The  name  of  Spain  brings  up 
6efore  us  a  vision  of  Carlism  and  petty  insurrections. 
In  Norway  every  one  is  absorbed  in  the  conflict  between 
the  present  Government  and  representative  legislation, 
within  which  lurks  a  future  republic  like  the  stone  in  a 
peach.  Denmark  has  its  Peasant  Party  and  chronic 
ministerial  crisis,  Belgium  its  armed  Ultramontanism. 
All  countries,  the  weak  as  well  as  the  strong,  have  their 
own  special  ailments  for  which  they  vainly  hope  to  find 


MENE,  TEKEL,  UPHARSIN. 


relief,  by  sacrificing  countless  millions  year  after  year 
upon  the  altar  of  the  military,  like  those  persons  in 
mediaeval  times  who  hoped  to  ensure  their  recovery  from 
some  dangerous  disease  by  presenting  their  wealth  to 
the  church. 


II. 

The  lack  of  harmony  between  government  and  peo- 
ple, the  deadly  animosity  between  different  political 
parties,  the  fermentation  going  on  in  certain  classes  of 
society,  are  only  manifestations  of  the  universal  disease 
of  the  age,  which  is  the  same  in  all  countries,  although 
its  symptoms  are  characterized  by  various  local  names  in 
different  places,  such  as  Nihilism,  Fenianism,  Socialism  and 
the  Antisemitic  or  Irredenta  movements.  Another  and  by 
far  more  dangerous  form  is  the  depression,  uneasiness  and 
breaking  away,  which  characterize  the  mental  attitude  of 
every  fully  developed  man  who  has  attained  to  the  heights 
of  modern  culture,  irrespective  of  his  nation  and  allegi- 
ance or  non-allegiance  to  party  or  state.  This  pessimism  is 
the  key-note  of  our  age  as  a  delight  in  mere  existence 
was  of  the  classic  ages,  and  ultra  piety  of  the  mediaeval 
period.  Every  man  of  culture  feels  this  sense  of  irritat- 
ing discomfort  which  he  ascribes  to  some  slight,  casual 
cause,  inevitably  the  wrong  one,  unles  he  analyzes  his 
feelings  with  unusual  care — it  leads  him  to  criticise  and 
harshly  condemn  the  varying  phases  of  our  modern  social 
life.  This  impatience  upon  which  all  outside  influences 
seem  to  exert  an  exciting  and  even  exasperating  effect,  is 
called  by  some  nervousness,  by  others  pessimism,  and 
by  a  third  class,  skepticism.  The  multiplicity  of  names 
describes  but  one  and  the  same  disease.  This  disease  is 


PESSIMISM  IN  LITERATURE.  7 

visible  in  every  manifestation  ol'  modern  culture.  Litera- 
ture and  art,  philosophy  and  positive  knowledge,  politic* 
and  economy,  all  are  infected  by  its  taint.  We  discover 
the  very  first  traces  of  its  existence  in  the  literature  of 
the  latter  part  of  the  last  century,  as  any  disturbances  or 
changes  in  the  conditions  of  mankind  are  detected  first  by 
the  delicate  perceptions  of  a  poetic  temperament.  While 
the  upper  classes  were  following  an  uninterrupted  round 
of  corrupt  gayeties,  making  their  lives  one  prolonged 
orgy  while  the  self-sufficient  bourgeoisie  saw  nothing 
beyond  the  length  of  their  own  noses  and  were  stupidly 
content  with  the  way  things  were  going,  of  a  sudden  Jean 
Jacques  Rousseau  lifted  his  voice  in  a  ringing  appeal  for 
deliverance  from  his  surroundings  which  yet  had  so 
many  attractions.  He  preached  to  the  world  with  en- 
thusiasm, of  a  return  to  a  state  of  primeval  nature,  by 
which  he  was  far  from  meaning  a  return  to  primitive 
barbarism,  but  only  a  change  to  something  diametrically 
opposed  to  the  actual  state  of  things.  His  cry  awoke  an 
echo  in  the  hearts  of  all  his  contemporaries,  as  when  a 
certain  note  is  struck,  all  the  chords  in  the  instrument 
which  are  attuned  to  it,  are  set  vibrating — a  proof  that 
Rousseau's  longings  pre-existed  unconsciously  in  those 
around  him.  Rakes  and  Philistines  alike  began  to 
cultivate  their  yearnings  for  primeval  nature  and  life  in 
the  wilderness;  they  formed  a  comical  contrast  tc 
the  ardor  with  which  they  still  sought  and  enjoyed  all 
the  super-refinements  and  .gilded  vices  of  the  civiliza- 
tion they  professed  to  despise.  German  Romanticism 
is  descended  in  a  direct  line  from  Rousseau's  longings 
for  primeval  nature.  It  is  however  a  feeble  Rous- 
seauism,  which  did  not  have  the  courage  to  go  to 
the  end  of  the  path  upon  which  it  had  entered. 
Romanticism  does  not  go  as  far  back  as  the  prehistoric 


£  MBNE,  TBKBL,  TTPHARSIN. 

epoch,  but  stops  at  a  more  accessible  point,  the  Middle 
Ages.  The  Middle  Ages  as  painted  by  the  Romantic 
School  in  such  glowing  colors,  are  howevert  as  far  remov- 
ed from  the  actual  Middle  Ages  of  history,  as  Rousseau's 
primeval  nature  was  from  the  actual  times  of  prehistoric 
man.  In  both  cases  their  ideal  world  was  to  be  constructed 
in  the  same  way,  with  everything  now  existing  replaced 
by  its  opposite;  in  both  cases  their  ideas  betrayed  a 
conscious  or  instinctive  fundamental  conviction  that  any 
change  from  the  present  must  prove  an  improvement  upon 
the  present  condition  of  affairs.  By  tracing  further  the 
genealogical  line  of  this  literary  tendency,  we  arrive  at 
French  Romanticism,  which  is  a  daughter  of  the  German 
school;  and  later  we  come  to  the  Byronic  disgust  with 
the  world,  which  forms  a  separate  branch  of  the  same 
family.  From  the  Byronic  line  are  descended  the  Ger- 
man pessimistic  poets,  the  Russian  Puschkin,  the  French 
Musset,  and  the  Italian  Leopardi.  The  family  trait  in 
their  mental  physiognomies  is  their  tragic  discontent 
with  the  realities  of  life,  which  one  vents  in  pathetic 
moans,  another  in  bitter  scorn  of  self,  and  a  third  in 
enraptured  yearnings  for  different  and  more  perfect  con- 
ditions of  life. 

And  does  not  the  literature  of  our  own  generation, 
the  literary  productions  of  the  two  last  decades,  betray  an 
attempt  at  escape  from  our  age  and  its  disappointments? 
The  public  demands  novels  and  poems  that  treat  of  the 
most  distant  countries  and  epochs.  It  devours  Frey tag's 
and  Dahn's  sketches  of  life  among  the  ancient  Germanic 
races,  the  mediaeval  poems  of  Scheffel  and  his  imitators, 
and  the  novels  of  Egyptian,  Corinthian  and  Roman  times 
by  Ebers  and  Eckstein,  or  if  it  bestows  its  favor  upon  a 
V~ok  that  announces  its  subject  as  modern,  it  must 
recommend  itself  by  a  certain  false,  sickly,  sentimental 


MODERN  LITERATURE.  V 

idealism;  it  must  be  an  attempt  to  clothe  human  beings 
(ike  ourselves,  with  certain  attributes  that  make  them  as 
our  imagination  delights  to  picture  them,  but  as  no  one 
5ver  saw  them  in  reality.  The  light  literature  of  England 
has  long  since  ceased  to  be  a  faithful  mirror  of  real  life. 
When  it  is  not  describing  with  gusto,  crimes  and  scandals 
of  all  kinds,  murders,  burglaries,  seductions  or  testamen- 
tary frauds,  it  portrays  a  model  society,  in  which  the 
members  of  the  nobility  are  all  handsome,  dignified, 
cultivated  and  wealthy;  while  the  lower  classes  are 
honest  God-fearing  people,  devoted  to  their  superiors, 
the  virtuous  among  them  being  graciously  praised  and 
rewarded  by  Sir  This  or  Sir  That,  while  the  wicked  are 
locked  up  by  the  police — in  short,  a  society  which  is  in  all 
respects  an  absurd  idealization  of  the  dilapidated,  totter- 
ing structure  of  society  as  it  exists  in  England  at  the 
present  day. 

The  literature  of  France  does  not  seem  to  fit  into  this 
frame  at  the  first  glance;  but  a  second  convinces  us  of 
our  error.  It  is  true,  it  limits  its  field  of  observation  to 
the  present  and  real  in  life.  It  denies  itself  any  sugges- 
tions or  longings  for  the  past  or  the  future,  for  any  better 
or  any  different  ideal.  It  is  founded  upon  a  principle  of 
Art,  that  is  called  Realism  or  Naturalism.  But  let  us 
examine  closer:  is  Naturalism  a  proof  of  satisfaction  with 
the  present,  and  in  this  serse,  in  opposition  to  the  pseudo 
historical  and  fanciful  idealization  which  I  have  just 
described  to  be  a  powerful  manifestation  of  disgust  with  the 
actualities  of  life,  and  of  longing  for  their  improvement? 
What  are  the  themes  which  Naturalism  portrays  with 
a  partiality  for  which  it  has  been  reproached  so  often? 
Does  it  ever  depict  any  lovely  or  pleasing  phases  of  this 
mortal  life?  No.  It  describes  exclusively  the  most  loath- 
some and  hideous  traits  of  civilization,  such  as  are  found 


10  MENB,  TKK.KL,  UPQAB8I1V 

mainly  in  the  large  cities.  It  takes  especial  pains  to 
portray  corruption,  suffering  and  moral  weakness,  human 
beings  sick  unto  death  and  a  society  at  its  last  gasp,  and 
as  we  finish  a  work  belonging  to  this  school,  a  plaintive 
voice  seems  to  murmur  with  monotonous  repetition.  "You 
see,  tormented  reader,  that  this  life  which  is  here  described 
with  an  inexorable  fidelity  to  nature,  is  really  not  worth 
living."  This  is  the  fundamental  conviction  which  every 
production  of  the  Realistic  school  in  literature  silently 
proclaims;  it  is  the  starting  point,  it  underlies  the  whole 
and  forms  the  closing  moral  of  each  work,  and  is  identi- 
cal with  the  convictions  upon  which  the  false  Idealism  of 
England  and  Germany  is  based.  The  two  paths,  far 
from  leading  in  opposite  directions,  conduct  the  wayfarers 
to  the  same  goal.  Naturalism  lays  down  the  premises, 
Idealism  draws  the  conclusion  from  them.  The  former  says: 
"The  present  conditions  of  life  are  intolerable,"  the  latter 
adds:  "Therefore  away  with  them;  let  us  forget  them  for 
one  brief  moment,  and  fancy  ourselves  in  that  ideal, 
perfect  world  which  I  can  call  up  before  my  readers  by 
my  magic."  The  poet  who  sings  in  inspired  verse  of 
Arcadian  simplicity,  whose  maidens  are  all  beautiful  and 
gay,  with  love  in  their  hearts  and  lilies  in  their  hands, 
living  in  romantic  castles  perched  upon  picturesque 
mountain  peaks  tipped  with  gold  by  the  rising  sun,  who 
is  called  "a  noble  poet,'*  by  the  admiring  public,  is  only 
the  brilliant  co-worker  of  that  other  author  who  dips  his 
pen  like  a  shovel,  into  the  mire,  and  for  whom  the  public 
can  not  find  language  strong  enough  to  express  its  disgust. 
I  have  lingered  upon  this  subject  because  the  litera- 
ture of  a  country  is  the  most  complete  and  many-sided 
form  in  which  the  intellectual  activity  of  any  age  reveals 
itself.  But  all  the  other  manifestations  of  human  thought 
pf  the  present  time  allow  us  also  to  discern  the  same  traits 


MODERN  ART.  11 

as  those  in  the  physiognomy  of  modern  literature.  All 
around  us  we  notice  a  general  sense  of  uneasiness  and  a 
mental  irritation,  which  assumes  in  one  mind  the  form  of 
grief  or  anger  at  the  unbearable  state  of  affairs  in  this 
world,  and  in  another,  produces  a  decided  longing  for  a 
change  in  all  the  conditions  of  modern  life. 

The  aim  of  the  creative  arts  in  former  ages  was  the 
reproduction  of  the  beautiful.  The  painter  and  the 
sculptor  seized  and  perpetuated  only  the  pleasing  scenes 
that  life  and  the  world  offered  them.  When  phidias  was 
at  work  upon  his  Zeus,  and  Raphael  was  painting  his 
Madonna,  their  hands  were  guided  by  a  naive  admiration 
of  the  human  form  per  se.  They  experienced  a  delight 
and  satisfaction  in  reproducing  nature  and  when  their 
delicate  artistic  taste  recognized  some  slight  imperfection 
in  her,  they  hastily  and  discreetly  toned  it  down,  with  an 
apologetic  and  idealizing  touch.  The  art  of  to-day  knows 
neither  their  satisfaction  nor  their  naive  admiration.  It 
examines  nature  with  a  frowning  brow  and  a  keen,  mali- 
cious eye,  skilled  in  discovering  faults  and  blemishes;  it 
portrays  under  the  pretext  of  fidelity  to  truth,  all  the 
imperfections  in  the  visible  form,  involuntarily  exag- 
gerating them  and  giving  them  undue  prominence.  I 
repeat,  under  the  pretext  of  truth,  for  truth  itself  does 
not  lie  within  such  means.  The  artist  naturally  reproduces 
his  model  as  he  sees  and  feels  it  himself;  Courbet's  ugly 
Stonebreaker  is  as  far  removed  from  absolute  truth,  as 
Lionardi's  lovely  Mona  Lisa,  from  which  Vasari  drew  his 
inspiration  on  account  of  its  supposed  fidelity  to  nature. 
And  even  when  modern  art  is  compelled  to  recognize  the 
beautiful  and  pay  unwilling  tribute  to  it  by  perpetuating 
it,  the  artist  contrives  to  suggest  a  flaw  in  it,  by  smuggling 
in  a  hint  that  the  noble  and  glorious  form  is  used  for  base 
purposes  and  is  consequently  contaminated.  The 


12  MENE,  TBKKL,  UPHARSIN. 

of  the  nude  female  figure  is  destroyed  by  a  vague  in- 
sinuation of  sensuality  and  wantonness,  which  mars  every 
modern  painting  of  this  class.  It  is  sure  to  exert  upon 
the  susceptible  observer  the  same  kind  of  influence  as  the 
"If  you  only  knew  what  I  know!"  whispered  by  some 
malicious,  old  scandal-monger  into  the  ear  of  her  neighbor, 
when  the  virtues  of  some  acquaintance  are  being  praised. 
Ancient  art  is  characterized  by  a  pleased  enjoyment  of 
nature;  modern  art  by  a  self -tormenting  dissatisfaction 
with  her.  One  glorifies  her,  the  other  complains  of  her. 
One  is  a  constant  ode  in  her  honor,  the  other  an  in- 
cessant, harsh  and  unfounded  critic  3m.  The  point  of 
view  of  the  former  was  that  we  are  living  in  the  most 
beautiful  of  all  possible  worlds,  and  of  the  latter,  that  our 
world  could  hardly  be  more  hideous  than  it  is. 

Pessimism  is  also  the  fashionable  coloring  of  thought 
now  in  philosophy,  not  only  in  the  established  philo- 
sophies taught  in  the  universities,  but  also  in  the  private 
systems  of  philosophical  thought  and  enquiry,  which 
every  person  of  culture  has  built  up  for  himself  around 
the  important  problems  of  the  day.  In  Germany, 
Schopenhauer  is  God  and  Hartmann  is  his  prophet.  The 
Positivism  of  Auguste  Comte  is  making  no  progress 
either  as  doctrine  or  sect,  for  even  its  followers  have 
acknowledged  that  its  methods  were  too  circumscribed 
and  its  aims  not  sufficiently  high.  The  philosophers  of 
France  are  confining  their  investigations  to  psychology, 
or,  to  be  more  exact,  to  psycho-physiology.  English 
philosophy  has  lost  its  right  to  the  title  of  metaphysics,  as 
it  has  abandoned  its  higher  task,  that  of  seeking  a  satis- 
factory view  of  the  world,  and  is  only  occupied  by 
questions  of  secondary  importance',  John  Stuart  Mill  is 
studying  logic  alone,  that  is  to  say,  the  doctrine  of  forms 
for  human  thought;  Herbert  Spencer  is  busy  with  social 


PHILOSOPHY   AND    POLITICAL  ECONOMY.  13 

science — that  is,  the  mental  and   moral   problems   which 
arise  in  social  life;  Bain  is  devoting  his  time  to  theories 
of  education,  which  include  the  study  of  psychology  and 
moral  philosophy.     Germany  alone  has  a  living  school  of 
metaphysics,   but  it  is   dismal  and  hopeless.     Good  Dr 
Pangloss  is  dead  and  he  has  left  no  heirs  behind  hir4 
Hegelism,  which  provided  a  sufficient  cause  for   every 
thing  and  allowed  its  followers  to  convince   themselves 
that  whatever  is,  is  logical  and  necessary,  has  followed  its 
predecessors   to  the   store-room   for    old    and    worn-out 
systems  of  philosophy,  and  the  world  is  now  attracted  by 
that   philosophy    which   proclaims    that    this   intolerable 
universe  will  finally  sink  again  into  nothing,  owing  to  the 
wish  of  all  created  beings  and  things  for  complete  anni- 
hilation. 

This  same   disease  of  the   age  shows  itself  in  the 

o 

realms  of  political  economy  in  a  different  but  no  less 
significant  form.  We  seek  in  vain  among  the  rich  a 
feeling  of  security  in  regard  to  their  wealth  and  of  simple 
enjoyment  of  it;  neither  do  we  find  among  the  poor  that 
patient  acquiescence  in  the  poverty  which  appears  so 
inevitable  and  unchangeable  to  human  eyes.  An  un- 
defined fear  of  approaching  danger  haunts  the  man  of 
wealth;  he  sees  a  menace  in  the  present  condition  of  men 
and  affairs,  indistinct  but  none  the  less  real,  so  that  he  has 
come  to  look  upon  his  possessions  as  a  loan  that  can  be 
demanded  from  him,  without  reprieve,,  from  one  moment 
to  another.  The  poor  man  in  consumed  by  envy  and 
greed  for  the  wealth  of  the  piivileged  few;  neither  in 
himself  nor  in  the  existing  arrangement  of  the  world  and 
society,  as  he  has  learned  to  understand  it,  does  he  dis- 
cover any  convincing  reasoua  for  the  fact  that  he  is  poor, 
and  hence  excluded  from  the  table  of  life's  pleasures.  He 
\istens  with  fierce  rmF^tience  to  a  vcic-^  within  him  which 


14  MENE,  TEKEL,  UPHAR8IW. 

wnispers  that  his  rights  to  the  blessings  of  this  life  are  as 
good  as  any  man's.  The  rich  man  is  dreading;  the  poor 
man  is  hoping  and  working  to  bring  about  a  change  in 
the  present  condition  of  property  ownership.  The  faith 
in  a  continuance  of  its  present  state  has  been  rudely 
shaken  in  the  minds  of  all,  even  in  those  who  will  not 
acknowledge  their  secret  doubts  and  anxieties. 

What  do  we  learn  from  the  domestic  politics  of  each 
one  of  all  the  civilized  countries  of  Europe?  The  contrasts 
are  becoming  sharper  all  the  time,  the  struggles  between 
the  political  parties  more  and  more  violent.  The  Conser 
vative  adherents  of  the  existing  state  of  affairs  are  grad- 
ually dying  off,  and  one  of  these  days  there  will  be  none 
left  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth.  In  vain  will  a  Quietist 
leader  be  sought  to  demonstrate  that  the  present  arrange- 
ments of  state  and  society  should  not  be  disturbed  but 
maintained  as  they  are.  There  are  no  more  Conservatives. 
This  title  would  have  to  be  dropped  from  the  political 
nomenclature  of  the  day  if  it  were  applied  according  to  its 
strictly  literal  meaning.  &.  Conservative  is  one  who  wishes 
to  maintain  existing  institutions.  Nobody  nowadays  con- 
fines himself  to  this  platform.  Fighting  on  the  defensive 
is  all  out  of  date;  only  the  offensive  systems  of  political 
warfare  are  practiced.  There  only  remains  Reaction  or 
Reform — that  is,  revolution  forwards  or  backwards.  The 
former  wishes  to  recall  the  past,  the  latter  to  hasten  the 
future.  The  Reactionist  hates  the  present  fully  as  much 
as  the  Liberal.  This  universal  mental  restlessness  ano 
uneasiness  exerts  a  powerful  and  many-sided  influence 
upon  individual  life.  A  dread  of  examining  and  compre- 
hending the  actualities  of  life  prevails  to  a  frightfully 
alarming  extent,  and  manifests  itself  in  a  thousand  ways. 
The  means  of  sensation  and  perception  are  eagerly  coun- 
terfeited by  altering  the  nervous  system  by  the  use  of 


AVERSION    TO    REALITY.  15 

stimulating  or  narcotic  poisons  of  all  kinds,  manifesting 
thereby  an  instinctive  aversion  to  the  realities  of  appear- 
ances and  chcumstances.  It  is  true  that  we  are  only 
capable  of  perceiving  the  changes  in  our  own  organism, 
not  those  going  on  around  us.  But  the  changes  within 
us  are  caused,  most  probably,  by  objects  outside  of  us; 
our  senses  give  us  a  picture  of  those  objects,  whose  relia- 
bility is  surely  more  to  be  depended  upon,  when  only 
warped  by  the  imperfections  in  our  normal  selves,  than 
when,  to  these  unavoidable  sources  of  error  is  added  a 
conscious  disturbance  in  the  functions  of  the  nervous  sys- 
tem caused  by  the  use  of  various  poisons.  Only  when 
our  perceptions  of  things  around  us  awake  in  us  a  feeling 
of  positive  discomfort,  do  we  realize  the  necessity  of 
warding  off  these  unpleasant  sensations,  or  of  modifying 
them,  until  they  become  more  agreeable.  This  is  the 
cause  of  the  constant  increase  in  the  consumption  of 
alcohol  and  tobacco,  shown  by  statistics,  and  of  the  ra- 
pidity with  which  the  custom  of  taking  opium  and  mor- 
phine is  spreading.  It  is  also  the  reason  why  the  culti- 
vated classes  seize  upon  every  new  narcotic  or  stimulant 
which  science  discovers  for  them,  so  that  we  have  not  only 
drunkards  and  opium  eaters  among  us,  but  confirmed 
chloral,  chloroform  and  ether  drinkers.  Society  as  a 
whole,  repeats  the  action  of  the  individual,  who  tries  to 
"drown  his  sorrows  in  the  flowing  bowl."  It  seeks  ob- 
livion of  the  present,  and  grasps  at  anything  that  will  pro- 
vide it  with  the  necessary  illusions  by  which  it  can  escape 
from  real  life. 

Hand  in  hand  with  this  instinctive  self-deception  and 
attempt  at  temporary  oblivion  of  the  actual  world,  goes 
the  final  plunge  into  eternal  oblivion:  statistics  prove  that 
the  number  of  suicides  is  increasing  in  thy  highly  civilized 
countries,  in  direct  proportion  to  the  increase  in  the  use 


16  MENE,  TEKEL,  UPHABSIN. 

of  alcohol  and  narcotics.  A  dull  sensation  of  irritation, 
sometimes  self-conscious,  but  more  often  only  recognized 
as  a  vague,  irresistible  discontent,  keeps  the  aspiring  in  a 
state  of  gloomy  restlessness,  so  that  the  struggle  for 
existence  assumes  brutal  and  desperate  phases,  never 
known  before.  This  struggle  is  no  longer  a  conflict  be- 
tween polite  antagonists  who  salute  each  other  with 
courtesy  before  they  open  fire,  like  the  English  and 
French  before  the  battle  of  Fontenoy,  but  it  is  a  pell-mell, 
hand  to  hand  fight  of  rough  cut-throats,  drunk  with  whisky 
and  blood,  who  fall  upon  each  other  with  brute  ferocity, 
neither  giving  nor  expecting  mercy.  We  lament  the 
disappearance  of  characters.  What  is  a  character?  It  is 
an  individuality  which  shapes  its  career  according  to  cer- 
tain simple,  fundamental  moral  principles  which  it  has 
recognized  as  good,  and  accepted  as  guides.  Skepticism 
developes  no  such  characters,  because  it  has  excluded 
faith  in  fundamental  principles.  When  the  north  star 
ceases  to  shine,  and  the  electric  pole  vanishes,  the  com- 
pass is  of  no  further  use  —  the  stationary  point  is  gone  to 
which  it  was  always  turning.  Skepticism,  also  a  fashionable 
ailment,  is  in  reality  but  another  phase  of  the  universal 
discontent  with  the  present.  For  it  is  only  by  becoming 
convinced  that  the  world  is  out  of  sorts  generally,  and 
that  everything  is  wrong,  insufficient  and  contemptible, 
that  we  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  all  is  vanity,  and 
nothing  worth  an  effort,  or  a  struggle  between  duty  and 
inclination.  Economy,  literature  and  art,  philosophy, 
politics  and  all  phases  of  social  and  individual  life,  show 
a  certain  fundamental  trait,  common  to  all  —  a  deep 
dissatisfaction  with  the  world  as  it  exists  at  present, 
From  each  one  of  these  multitudinous  manifestations  of 
human  intelligence  arises  a  bitter  cry,  the  same  in  all  cases, 
an  appeal  for  a  radical  change. 


PESSIMISM  IN  THE  PAST.  17 


III. 

The  question  here  arises1.  Is  this  picture  true  of 
modern  times  alone?  Does  it  not  also  represent  the 
characteristics  of  all  previous  ages? 

I  am  far  from  being  an  enthusiast  on  the  subject  of 
days  that  are  past.  I  am  no  believer  in  any  Golden  Age. 
The  life  of  man  has  always  been  more  or  less  of  a  struggle; 
he  has  always  known  discontent  and  unhappiness. 
Pessimism  has  a  physiological  basis,  and  a  certain  measure 
of  suffering  is  entailed  upon  us  by  the  nature  of  our  organ- 
ism. It  is  by  suffering  that  we  first  become  conscious  of  our 
Ego.  Our  Ego  is  first  brought  to  our  consciousness  by  a 
perception  of  its  limitations;  and  this  perception  of  its 
limitations  is  never  awakened  save  by  its  coming  in  con- 
tact, more  or  less  rudely,  with  something  outside  of  it. 
As,  in  a  dark  room,  a  person  has  the  fact  of  the  ex- 
istence of  the  walls  brought  to  his  mind,  only  by  knock- 
ing his  head  against  them.  Man  purchases  his  conscious- 
ness therefore  with  the  sensation  of  pain,  and  he  only 
learns  by  repeated  discomfort  the  difference  between 
the  subject  and  the  object.  But  if  it  is  true  that  man- 
kind has  always  suffered  and  complained,  that  it  has  ex- 
perienced in  all  ages,  the  sad  contrast  between  desire  and 
possession,  between  the  ideal  and  the  real,  it  is  none  the 
less  true  that  discontent  was  never  so  deep  nor  so  uni- 
versal, nor  was  it  ever  manifested  in  so  many  directions, 
nor  did  it  ever  present  itself  in  such  radical  forms  as  at 
present. 

As  we  turn  the  pages  of  history  we  find  them  filled 
with  records  of  party  struggles  and  revolutions.  It  often 
seems  to  a  superficial  observer  as  if  the  selfish  ambition 
of  some  party  leader,  to  which  the  multitudes  were 


18  MBNE,   TEKBL,    UPHABSIJN. 

wholly  indifferent,  were  the  sole  power  that  set  son/e  jf 
these  revolutions  in  motion.  But  I  do  not  believe  in  the 
justice  of  thus  identifying  these  movements  with  their 
leaders.  Parties  are  formed  and  flock  to  their  standards, 
because  they  fancy  they  recognize  in  their  battle-cries  the 
expression  of  their  own  indistinct  aspirations;  and  even  if 
the  ambitious  leader  manipulates  the  passions  of  the 
masses,  applying  them  to  his  own  use,  as  the  manufacturer 
compels  the  forces  of  wind,  water  and  steam  to  do  his 
bidding,  he  will  not  be  successful  in  the  end,  unless  he 
pretends  to  be  working  for  the  accomplishment  of  certain 
popular  wishes.  Party  struggles  are  to  a  people,  what 
change  is  to  the  hod-carrier,  as  he  shifts  his  hod  from  one 
shoulder  to  the  other,  a  temporary  but  not  a  genuine 
relief,  and  revolutions  are  freshets  intended  to  equalize 
the  ideals  of  the  people  and  the  actual  conditions  of  life. 
They  are  never  arbitrary,  but  obey  certain  physical  laws, 
like  the  cyclone,  which  re-establishes  the  equilibrium  of 
air,  disturbed  by  violent  changes  in  the  temperature,  or  like 
the  waterfall,  which  is  constantly  striving  to  bring  two 
bodies  of  water  to  the  same  level.  As  often  as  there  is 
found  to  be  too  great  a  difference  between  the  wishes  of 
the  people  and  the  actual  reality  of  things,  in  obedience 
to  the  laws  of  nature  a  revolution  takes  place;  it  may 
be  dammed  up  artificially  by  the  organized  powers  for  a 
while  but  not  for  long.  Revolutions  are  consequently 
the  only  witnesses  of  history  which  allow  us  to  draw 
conclusions  from  their  extent  and  aims  as  to  the  degree 
and  the  causes  of  the  preceding  popular  discontent. 

Until  the  most  recent  times,  revolutions  were  all  of 
comparatively  small  extent,  and  directed  against  a  limited 
number  of  abuses.  The  political  contests  among  the 
republicans  of  ancient  Rome  were  caused  by  the  struggle 
*»etween  the  patricians  and  the  plebeians.  What  were 


REVOLUTIONS  ARK  NEVER  ARBITRARY.  19 

the  aspirations  of  the  latter  which  assumed  corporate 
form  in  Catiline  and  the  Gracchi?  They  wanted  a  fair 
share  in  the  public  lands  and  they  demanded  a  voice 
in  the  discussion  of  state  affairs.  In  the  ancient 
communities  the  individual  citizen  had  a  remarkably 
highly  developed  sense  of  respect  and  responsibility  for 
the  welfare  of  the  commonwealth,  and  also  for  the  duties 
and  privileges  arising  from  his  connection  with  it.  He 
seemed  to  think  that  taken  alone,  he  was  a  contemptible 
fragment,  but  fitted  into  his  proper  place  in  the  structure 
of  the  state,  he  became  a  complete  and  rounded  whole. 
The  Roman  plebeian  looked  upon  himself  as  the  unjustly 
despised  and  disinherited  son  of  a  wealthy  house,  and 
merely  demanded  his  seat  at  the  paternal  board,  and  his 
share  in  the  family  discussions  —  the  thought  of  rebelling 
against  the  surrounding  conditions  of  political  and  social 
life,  never  occurred  to  him.  He  was  proud  of  them,  and 
paid  them  willing  and  delighted  homage.  He  looked 
up  to  the  patrician  on  account  of  his  rank  and 
neither  envied  him  his  lineage,  nor  the  outward  sym- 
bols of  his  exalted  position.  He  contentedly  took  that 
position  on  the  scale  of  social  rank  which  the  accident  of 
his  birth  had  assigned  to  him,  and  although  he  glanced 
with  reverential  awe  at  the  aristocratic  and  senatorial 
families  above  him,  he  could  experience  a  sensation  of 
self-esteem  and  satisfaction  when  he  looked  down  upon 
the  multitudes  of  slaves  and  freed-men  beneath  him. 

Far  deeper  was  the  discontent  of  those  slaves  who 
rose  in  insurrection  again  and  again,  during  that  corrupt 
age  when  the  republic  was  being  merged  into  an  empire, 
protesting  with  their  life-blood  agavnst  the  existing  ar- 
rangement of  society,  in  battles  whose  tragic  pathos  is  be- 
yond description.  In  those  nameless  multitudes  who 
form  the  living  pedestal  for  the  grand  figure  of  Spartacus. 


20  MBNB,  TEKEL,  UPHAB8IN. 

we  discover  for  the  first  time,  traces  of  that  burning 
doubt  whether  everything  that  is,  must  of  necessity  always 
remain  so.  This  doubt  never  seems  to  have  entered  into 
the  minds  of  the  burden-bearing  Egyptians,  whom  we  see 
represented  in  such  long,  silent,  dreary  processions  on  the 
walls  of  ancient  tombs  and  temples.  Neither  has  it 
touched  with  its  poisoned  tip  the  two  hundred  millions 
of  India,  who  in  silent  acquiescence  bear  the  yoke  of  the 
English,  as  for  centuries,  they  bore  that  of  Caste.  But 
the  followers  of  Spartacus  were  neither  radicals  nor  pessi- 
mists, according  to  our  ideas.  They  attacked  the  goad, 
not  him  who  wielded  it.  Their  anger  was  not  directed 
against  the  regulation  of  the  world,  but  only  against  their 
position  in  it.  Did  they  recognize  the  fact  that  reason 
refuses  to  sanction  the  degradation  of  men  with  will  and 
judgment  into  mere  property,  like  cattle  and  inanimate 
things?  By  no  means.  They  accepted  the  institution  of 
slavery  without  question,  only  they  did  not  want  to  be 
slaves  themselves.  Their  ideal  was  not  the  abolition  of 
an  unreasonable  form  of  social  life,  but  simply  an  exchange 
of  roles.  These  insurgents  would  have  been  easily 
pacified.  A  victory  would  have  transformed  their  despair 
into  contentment,  and  converted  the  rebels  into  model 
pillars  of  society. 

The  uprisings  of  the  Middle  Ages  possess  a  deepe* 
mental  significance.  The  iconoclastic  movements,  the 
Crusades,  the  fanaticism  of  the  Albigenses  and  Walden- 
ses,  reveal  a  condition  of  deep  mental  uneasiness.  The 
magic  fascination  of  that  mysterious  land  beneath  the 
rising  sun,  would  not  have  been  felt  by  an  uncultivated 
nature,  unless  it  had  already  been  experiencing  an  in- 
coherent longing  for  change  from  its  surroundings.  The 
hundreds  of  thousands  who  flocked  to  Palestine  from 
Europe,  were  not  following  so  much  the  banner  of  the 


PSYCHOLOGY  OP  THE  DABK  AND  MIDDLE  AGES.    21 

Cross,  as  a  bright  vision  which  floated  on  before  them,  visi- 
ble only  to  their  mental  eyes,  whose  name  was  the  Ideal. 
He  who  was  thoroughly  contented  did  not  leave  his  happy 
fireside  to  trudge  through  unknown  perils  to  the  Holy 
Sepulchre;  it  was  only  the  restless  and  uneasy  mind  that 
welcomed  change  and  the  possibility  of  improvement. 
Neither  were  those  thousands  contented  with  their  lot  who 
gave  themselves  up  to  torture  and  death  for  the  sake  of 
their  religion;  who,  to  maintain  some  doctrinal  point, 
marched  placidly  to  the  stake,  or,  in  their  fanaticism,  ex- 
terminated entire  peoples.  For  to  him  who  is  exercised 
by  such  a  feverish  anxiety  for  the  salvation  of  his  soul 
and  for  the  terms  upon  which  he  can  secure  future  bliss, 
who  spends  this  life  in  preparing  himself  for  the  next,  by 
such  incredible  sacrifices,  struggles  and  sufferings,  to  him 
this  world  can  not  have  appealed  with  any  convincing 
attractions. 

Thus  we  see  that  mankind  during  the  Middle  Ages 
was  also  disturbed  and  discontented;  what  restrained  it 
from  any  open  revolt  against  the  then  existing  conditions 
of  life,  was  the  fact  that  it  found  in  its  religious  faith  a 
comfort  and  peace  which  made  it  bear  all  earthly  ills  with 
ease  and  even  delight.  He  who  is  confidently  awaiting 
some  great  happiness  close  at  hand  accepts  with  facile 
resignation  a  passing  discomfort  and  in  fact  is  hardly  con- 
scious of  it. 

But  mankind  developed  and  the  consolation  of  Reli- 
gion began  to  wane.  The  moment  arrived  when  religious 
faith  ceased  to  be  the  reliable  safety  valve  for  the  rebell- 
ious tendencies  of  the  discontented.  That  moment  was 
critical.  A  trifle  more,  and  the  skepticism  and  tearing 
loose  from  old  traditions,  which  characterize  the  present 
age,  would  have  broken  out  four  hundred  years  ago.  The 
people  did  not  allow  themselves  however,  to  be  robbed 


22  MBNE,  TBKEL,  UPHARSIN. 

of  their  cherished  illusions  without  resistance,  and  made 
great  efforts  to  retain  them.  This  struggle  for  a  consoling 
ideal  is  called  in  history  the  Reformation.  It  had  the 
effect  of  postponing  for  centuries  the  awakening  of  the 
world  from  its  pleasant  dream.  But  even  then  there 
appeared  certain  isolated  symptoms  of  the  evolution  of  a 
pessimism  which  the  faith  in  a  happy  hereafter  could  no 
longer  entirely  stifle.  The  Peasants'  war  in  Germany  was 
the  last  resort  of  despairing  men,  to  whom  an  eternal 
Paradise  did  not  seem  a  sufficient  indemnification  for 
misery  in  this  world.  They  wanted  to  force  a  payment 
on  account,  on  the  sum  of  happiness  coming  to  them  in 
the  future. 

It  is  not  until  as  late  as  the  French  Revolution  that 
we  find  a  people  to  whom  the  existing  state  of  affairs 
appeared  so  entirely  unsatisfactory  that  they  were  willing 
to  make  any  sacrifices,  pay  any  price,  to  have  it  changed. 
For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  mankind,  we  see  an 
extensive,  popular  uprising  not  directed  against  single 
abuses,  but  against  the  general  conditions  of  things,  in 
their  entirety.  No  poor  people  were  clamoring  for  a 
share  in  the  agerpublicus,  like  the  Roman  plebeians, — no 
disfranchised  were  struggling  for  their  rights  as  human 
beings,  like  the  slaves  led  by  Spartacus,  —  no  special 
class  was  fighting  for  certain  privileges,  like  the  cities  in 
the  Middle  Ages, — nor  was  it  an  insurrection  of  visionaries, 
eager  to  bear  arms  in  behalf  of  their  religion,  like  the 
Waldenses,  Albigenses,  the  Huguenots  and  the  protestant 
reformers.  All  these  elements,  with  a  thousand  others, 
combined  to  form  the  French  Revolution.  It  was  at  the 
same  time  material  and  intellectual.  It  denied  all  faith 
in  Religion,  and  questioned  the  established  form  of  indi- 
vidual possession  of  property.  It  attempted  to  reconstruct 
state  and  society  upon  a  new  foundation  and  according  to 


OPTIMISM  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  23 

a  new  plan.  It  wished  to  create  new  and  more  favorable 
conditions  of  existence  for  body  and  mind.  It  was  an 
explosion  which  took  effect  not  only  upon  isolated  weak 
points,  but  upon  the  whole  surface  exposed  to  it,  and 
brought  dowm  in  ruins  the  entire  structure  of  society.  It  is 
true  that  the  incongruity  of  the  then  existing  circum- 
stances must  have  been  felt  with  fearful  intensity  by  all, 
and  have  caused  intense  suffering,  to  have  produced  such 
an  attempt  at  complete  annihilation,  yet  we  notice  in  this 
great  Revolution,  one  trait  which  makes  it  impossible  for 
us  to  look  upon  the  mental  attitude  of  man  at  that  period 
as  so  wretched  as  at  present.  This  trait  is  the  prevailing, 
inexhaustible  optimism.  Indeed,  the  men  of  the  great 
Revolution  were  entirely  free  from  any  taint  of 
pessimism.  They  were  filled  with  hope  and  assurance 
to  overflowing.  They  were  firmly  convinced  that 
tney  possessed  unfailing  means  for  ensuring  absolute 
happiness  to  mankind;  and  with  this  conviction  it  is 
impossible  to  be  unhappy.  They  were  in  the  mood 
of  spring-time  and  dawn,  such  as  inspired  Uhland 
when  he  exclaimed:  "Die  Welt  wird  schSner  mit  jedem 
Tag — Nun  muss  sich  Alles,  Alles  wenden !"  This  youth 
fulness,  even  childishness,  of  hope  and  illusions,  this 
delight  in  the  outlook  into  the  future,  is  perhaps  the 
most  remarkable  phenomenon  connected  with  the  great 
Revolution. 

We  learn  from  our  rapid  scanning  of  the  past  cen- 
turies, that  the  present  tone  of  thought  is  without  pre- 
cedent. History  contains  the  record  of  but  one  moment 
that  reminds  us  of  our  own  in  this  respect,  and  this  is  tha 
period  of  the  death  agony  of  the  ancient  world.  This  resem- 
blance has  been  shown  repeatedly.  The  people  had 
outgrown  the  old  ideas,  and  new  ones  to  replace  them, 
had  not  yet  been  discovered.  They  believed  no  longer 


24  MENE,  TEKEL,  UPHAE8IN. 

in  the  doctrines  of  paganism,  nor  in  the  teachings  of  the 
philosophers.  The  theories  upon  which  their  lives  had 
hitherto  been  based  were  found  to  be  erroneous,  and  con- 
sequently the  latter  had  become  illogical  and  without 
meaning.  A  weariness  and  hopeless  dejection  had  con- 
sequently crept  into  the  hearts  of  men;  they  could  find  no 
relief  in  their  own  resources  nor  in  anything  around 
them.  They  lost  even  the  last  vestige  of  faith  in  a  possi 
ble  improvement  and  committed  suicide  by  thousands, 
unable  to  resist  the  ravages  of  the  moral  epidemic.  That 
dismal  time  when  the  Roman  Empire  was  tottering  to  its 
fall,  and  paganism  in  its  death  throes,  is  the  only  period 
in  which  we  meet  with  the  same  depression,  the  same 
restless  spirit  of  investigation  and  fault-finding,  the  same 
skepticism  in  superficial  and  pessimism  in  deep  minds 
which  characterize  our  own  highly  civilized  age.  But 
after  all,  there  is  a  difference  between  the  two  periods; 
this  hopeless  despair  of  the  future  only  attacked  the  aristoc- 
racy of  mind,  comparatively  a  few  in  ancient  Rome,  while 
the  masses  lived  out  their  existence  in  stolid  unconcern, 
looking  upon  the  great  tragedy  of  the  age  merely  as  an 
exterior,  material  misfortune.  But  in  our  time  this 
pessimism  lowers  like  a  dense,  black  cloud  over  the  vast 
majority  of  cultivated  human  beings.  The  difference 
therefore  is  more  in  extent  than  in  kind — but  extent  is  the 
very  point  that  distinguishes  an  epidemic  from  a  disease. 

IV. 

Whence  comes  this  mental  distress  common  to  all 
civilized  peoples?  To  what  cause  can  we  trace  the  develop- 
ment of  this  unparalleled  irritation  and  embittering,, 
which  prevails  with  such  alarming  severity  among  all  the 
^tinkers  of  an  age  which  seems  to  offer  even  to  the 


THE  CAUSE  OF  MODERN  PESSIMISM.  25 

poorest,  a  wealth  of  material  and  intellectual  pleasures, 
such  as  no  monarch  of  former  times  was  able  to  procure. 
The  cause?  It  is  identical  with  that  which  flooded  the 
hearts  of  the  later  Romans  with  such  utter  disgust  at  the 
emptiness  of  life,  that  they  sought  refuge  in  self-destruc- 
tion to  escape  from  it.  It  is  owing  to  the  opposition 
between  the  world  as  it  is,  with  all  its  phases  of  individual, 
social  and  civil  life,  and  the  way  in  which  we  now  com- 
prehend the  significance  of  the  universe.  Every  one  of  our 
actions  contradicts  our  convictions,  flouts  them,  gives  them 
the  lie.  An  impassible  chasm  separates  that  which  we  know 
to  be  truth,  and  the  actual  conditions  of  life  under  which 
we  are  compelled  to  live  and  carry  on  our  individual 
and  social  existence. 

Our  view  of  the  world,  that  accepted  consciously  or 
unconsciously  by  all  cultivated  •:  -ids  of-  the  present  day, 
is  from  the  standpoint  of  natirr  1  science.  We  look  upon 
the  universe  as  a  vast  aggravation  of  matter,  possessing 
the  attribute  of  motion  which  reveals  itself  to  us  under  the 
form  of  various  physical  laws,  some  of  which  we  have 
discovered,  defined  and  proved,  while  we  are  as  yet  only 
on  the  track  of  the  rest — these  laws  we  accept  as  immu- 
table and  without  possibility  of  exception.  The 
problem  of  the  beginning  and  final  destiny  of  things  we 
have  given  up  a,s  impossible  to  be  solved  with  the  means 
of  our  organism.  As  a  matter  of  convenience  we  have 
accepted  as  a  provisory  conclusion  for  certain  trains  of 
thought,  the  hypothesis  that  matter  is  eternal.  The 
acceptance  of  this  theory,  the  only  purely  arbitrary  one 
in  our  system,  serves  to  explain  to  us  all  the  various 
phenomena  of  nature,  while  it  does  not  contradict  our 
comprehension  of  physical  laws.  It  excuses  us  from 
accepting  any  theory  in  regard  to  an  eternal  will  or  in- 
telligence, or  as  man  has  always  designated  it,  God,  which 


2tj  MENE,  TEKEL,  UPHAR8IN. 

would  have  the  disadvantage  of  forcing  upon  us,  if  we 
accepted  it,  a  whole  series  of  similar  hypotheses,  such  as 
prophecy,  the  soul  and  immortality,  all  of  which  are  in- 
capable of  proof,  and  can  not  be  sustained  by  our  reason, 
while  at  the  same  time  they  are  in  direct  opposition  to  all 
the  laws  of  nature,  which  we  know  to  be  fixed  and 
unyielding  facts.  If  we  descend  from  the  universe  to 
our  race,  to  man,  we  see  in  him,  as  a  necessary  conse- 
quence of  our  conceptions  of  material  nature,  merely  a 
Jiving  being,  fitting  perfectly  into  its  allotted  place  in  the 
ranks  of  living  organisms,  and  governed  in  all  things  by 
the  common  laws  of  the  organic  world.  We  can  discover 
no  proofs  of  any  special  favors  or  privileges  granted  to 
man  more  than  those  enjoyed  by  every  other  animal  or 
vegetable  organism.  We  believe  that  the  development 
of  the  human  as  well  as  of  all  other  races,  was  perhaps 
first  made  possible  by  sexual  selection,  and  certainly  pro- 
moted by  it;  and  that  the  struggle  for  existence,  using 
the  term  in  its  most  comprehensive  sense,  shapes  the 
destinies  of  nations  as  well  as  of  the  most  obscure 
individual  and  is  the  foundation  for  all  forms  of  political 
and  social  life. 

This  is  our  conception  of  the  universe,  our  belief. 
Upon  this  base  are  founded  all  our  principles,  and  our 
conceptions  of  justice  and  morality.  It  has  become  an 
elementary  constituent  part  of  our  civilization.  We 
inhale  it  with  the  air  we  breathe.  It  has  become  im- 
possible to  close  our  intellects  against  it.  The  pope 
who  denounced  it  in  his  encyclical,  was  under  its  in- 
fluence. The  Jesuits  try  in  vain  to  save  their  pupils 
from  its  taint,  by  bringing  them  up  in  an  artificial  atmos- 
phere of  mediaeval  theology  and  scholastics,  as  a  marine 
animal  is  kept  alive  in  an  inland  aquarium,  by  salt  water 
brought  from  the  distant  sea;  but  they  are  alreadv  filled 


OUK  CONCEPTION  OF  THE  UNIVERSE.  27 

witn  it,  they  take  it  in  as  they  read  the  posters  on  the 
walls,  as  they  notice  the  manners  of  their  associates,  as 
they  read  their  pious  magazines  and  books,  when  they  are 
buying  a  breviary — their  whole  mental  and  moral  life  is 
unconsciously  permeated  and  colored  by  it;  they  have  in- 
voluntary thoughts  and  perceptions,  such  as  the  man  of 
the  Eleventh  Century  never  imagined,  in  vain  do  they  try 
to  perform  the  impossible — they  cannot  help  being  the 
children  of  this  modern  age  and  of  its  specific  civilization. 
And,  with  this  belief,  we  are  obliged  to  live  in  the 
midst  of  a  civilization,  which  allows  one  man,  by  the  acci- 
dent of  his  birth,  to  assume  the  most  extensive  rights  over 
millions  of  his  fellow-men,  his  equals  in  every  respect  and 
in  many  cases,  his  superiors;  which  pays  homage  to 
another  who  repeats  words  without  any  sense  and  makes 
purposeless  gestures,  as  the  visible  incorporation  of  super- 
natural powers;  which  forbids  a  maiden  in  a  certain 
station  of  life,  to  marry  a  handsome,  blooming,  powerful 
individual,  but  mates  her  with  some  unattractive,  feeble 
and  crippled  being  because  he  is  her  equal  in  rank,  while 
the  former  belongs  to  a  so-called  lower  class;  which  per- 
mits a  healthy  and  strong  laboring  man  to  go  hungry, 
while  some  sickly  and  incapable  idler  is  surrounded  by  a 
superfluity  which  he  is  unable  to  enjoy.  We,  who  be- 
lieve that  the  human  race  has  been  evolved  from  some 
lower  form  of  life,  who  know  that  all  individuals  without 
exception,  are  created,  live  out  their  lives  and  pass  away, 
all  in  accordance  with  the  same  organic  laws — we  are 
obliged  to  kneel  before  a  king;  we  are  expected  to  rever- 
ence in  him  a  being  set  apart  from  all  ordinary  laws  and 
conditions,  and  are  forbidden  to  smile  when  we  read  on 
the  coins  and  in  the  official  decrees  of  the  Government 
that  "by  the  grace  of  God,"  he  is,  what  he  is.  We,  con- 
vinced as  we  are,  that  every  occurrence  in  this  world  is 


28  MENE,  TEKEL,  UPHABSIN. 

the  result  of  certain  irresistible  and  unchangeable  physi- 
cal laws,  are  yet  compelled  to  look  on  while  the  Govern- 
ment pays  certain  priests,  whose  official  duty  it  is,  to  con- 
duct ceremonies  with  the  declared  purpose  of  exerting 
an  influence  upon  events  in  this  world,  which  can  only 
take  effect  by  a  suspension  or  revocation  of  nature's  laws ; 
we  are  expected  as  occasion  offers,  to  take  part  in  some 
imposing  mass  or  church  service  to  beg  for  special  favors 
from  some  mysterious,  supernatural  power,  whose  exist- 
ence both  nature  and  physical  science  refuse  to  recognize 
as  possible,  and  we  award  a  high  rank  in  state  and  society 
to  those  persons  who  preside  at  these  inconsistent  mum- 
meries. We  believe  in  the  powerful  and  beneficent 
effect  of  sexual  selection,  and  yet  we  defend  the  modern 
conventional  marriage,  which,  in  its  present  form,  directly 
excludes  it.  We  acknowledge  the  struggle  for  existence 
as  the  inevitable  foundation  for  all  law  and  morality,  and 
yet,  every  day  we  pass  laws  to  uphold  and  perpetuate 
conditions  which  absolutely  prevent  the  free  exercise  of 
our  powers,  and  deny  to  the  strong  and  those  worthy  of 
the  fullest  life,  the  right  to  make  use  of  their  strength, 
and  we  stigmatize  their  inevitable  victory  over  the  feeble, 
as  a  capital  crime.  Thus  our  whole  system  of  life  is  based 
upon  false  principles  which  we  have  inherited  from  former 
ages,  which  are  in  direct  and  flagrant  opposition  to  every 
one  of  our  present  convictions.  The  form  and  the  spirit 
of  our  life  as  citizens  are  at  constant  and  open  variance. 
Every  word  that  we  speak,  every  action,  is  a  direct  lie 
against  that  which  we  acknowledge  as  truth  in  our  hearts. 
Thus  we  are  always  parodying  our  own  selves,  and  acting 
a  perpetual  farce,  which  wearies  us  to  death,  in  spite  of 
our  being  accustomed  to  it,  which  requires  a  constant 
denial  on  our  part  of  every  one  of  our  most  cherished  be- 
liefs and  convictions,  and  which,  in  moments  of  introspec- 


EXPLANATION  OF  THE  MODERN  TONE  OF  MIND.         29 

tion,  fills  us  with  disgust  and  contempt  of  our  own  conduct 
and  of  everything  around  us.  We  assume  ac  every 
opportunity  a  costume  that  looks  to  our  own  eyes  like 
a  fool's  jacket  but  which  we  wear  with  apparent  satisfac- 
tion and  a  thousand  airs  and  graces;  we  counterfeit  out- 
ward reverence  for  certain  persons  and  things,  which  ap- 
pear to  our  innermost  hearts,  as  absurd  in  the  highest 
degree,  and  we  cling  like  cowards,  to  certain  convention- 
alities, whose  utter  incongruity  we  feel  with  every  fibre 
of  our  being. 

This  perpetual  conflict  between  the  existing  condi- 
tions of  the  world  and  our  secret  convictions,  has  a  most 
tragic  reaction  upon  the  inner  life  of  the  individual.  We 
seem  to  ourselves  like  clowns,  who  set  others  to  laughing 
by  the  jokes,  which  to  them  are  so  flat  and  stale.  Ignor- 
ance is  easily  combined  with  a  kind  of  animal  sense  of 
comfort,  and  we  can  live  happy  and  contented,  if  we  ac- 
cept all  our  surroundings  as  necessary  and  right.  The 
Inquisition,  in  rooting  out  doubt  with  the  sword  and  the 
stake,  intended  to  benefit  humanity  in  its  own  way,  by 
saving  to  man  his  pleasure  in  existence.  But  as  soon  as 
we  recognize  the  fact  that  the  hitherto  cherished  institu- 
tions have  lost  their  vitality  and  are  all  out  of  date,  that 
they  are  empty,  foolish  phantoms,  partly  scarecrows, 
partly  theatre  properties,  we  experience  the  horror  and 
longing  for  escape,  the  discouragement  and  disgust,  which 
would  fill  the  mind  and  heart  of  a  living  man  locked  in  a 
vault  with  the  dead,  or  of  a  sane  man  imprisoned  with 
lunatics,  obliged  to  humor  their  vagaries,  to  escape  physi- 
cal violence. 

This  perpetual  conflict  between  our  ideas,  and  all 
forms  of  our  civilization,  this  necessity  for  carrying  on  our 
existence  in  the  midst  of  institutions  which  we  consider  to 
be  lies — these  are  the  causes  of  our  pessimism  and  skep- 


IK)  MENB,  TKKEL,  UPHARSIK. 

ticism.  This  is  the  frightful  rent  that  goes  through  the  en- 
tire civilized  world.  In  this  insupportable  contradiction 
we  lose  all  enjoyment  of  life  and  all  inclination  for  effort. 
It  is  the  cause  of  that  feverish  sense  of  discomfort  that 
disturbs  the  people  of  culture  in  all  countries  today.  In 
it  we  find  the  solution  of  the  problem  of  the  dismal  tone 
of  modern  thought. 

It  will  be  the  task  of  the  following  chapters  to  set 
forth  in  detail  the  different  phases  of  this  discordant  strife 
between  the  principal  conventional  lies  of  our  civilization, 
and  the  truths  they  deny,  based  on  natural  science,  which 
we  have  adopted  as  our  conceptions  of  the  universe. 


The  Lie  of  Religion. 


i. 

Religion  is  the  most  powerful  and  widely  extended 
of  all  the  institutions  bequeathed  to  us  by  the  past.  The 
entire  human  race  comes  under  its  ban.  It  binds  with 
the  same  fetters  the  highest  and  the  lowest  races  alike, 
and  its  connecting  links  render  the  negro  of  Australia  the 
brother  in  sentiment  and  neighbor  in  civilization  of  the 
English  lord.  Religion  penetrates  all  forms  of  political 
and  social  life,  and  faith  in  its  abstract  dogmas,  is  the 
avowed  or  unexpress':  1  foundation  for  the  rightf ulness,  or 
even  the  possibility  jf  a  whole  series  of  actions  which 
form  the  degrees  of  critical  development,  or  the  turning 
points,  in  any  individual  existence.  There  are  still  » 
great  many  civilized  countries,  where  everyone  is  obliged 
to  belong  to  some  religion.  No  one  is  asked  about  his 
faith,  his  convictions,  but  every  one  is  obliged  to  conform 
to  some  established  form  of  worship.  The  world  has  pro- 
gressed somewhat  since  the  days  of  the  Anti-reformation 
under  Bloody  Mary,  of  Spain  during  the  Sixteenth  Cen- 
tury, and  of  the  Puritan  rule  in  New  England,  when  every 
citizen  was  obliged,  under  the  most  fearful  penalties,  to 
take  part  in  the  established  worship;  but  the  progress 
has  been  slight,  taken  as  a  whole.  The  State  no  longer 
drives  every  individual  to  mass  and  confession,  it  has 
abolished  the  penalty  of  being  burnt  at  the  stake  for  neg- 
ligence in  church  attendance  j  but  it  requires,  at  lea**  in 


32  THE  LIB  OF  RELIGION. 

some  European  and  American  countries,  every  one  to  be 
enrolled  on  the  list  of  members  of  some  religious  com- 
munity, and  by  means  of  its  organization  exacts  contribu- 
tions from  all  sides. 

Religion  receives  into  her  arms  at  its  birth  the  infant 
of  civilized  life,  she  becomes  its  unyielding,  implacable 
companion  throughout  its  entire  existence,  and  will  not 
relinquish  her  claims  even  upon  its  death-bed.  A  citizen 
is  born — the  parents  are  obliged  to  present  him  for  bap- 
tism, as  a  refusal,  in  some  countries,  would  render  them 
liable  to  a  fine  arid  prosecution  by  the  State.  He  wishes 
to  get  married — this  he  can  only  do  in  the  church,  with 
the  co-operation  of  the  minister.  Many  countries  recog- 
nize a  civil  marriage  as  legal,  it  is  true,  but,  in  the  first 
place  it  is  only  introduced  into  a  comparatively  small 
number,  in  the  second,  where  it  is  already  introduced 
powerful  influences  are  at  work  undermining  it,  and,  in 
the  third  place,  social  customs  have  not  kept  pace  with 
the  law,  consequently  in  those  countries  where  the  civil 
marriage  is  a  recognized,  permanent  institution  it  is  not 
considered  as  a  complete  marriage.  He  dies — a  minister 
follows  his  corpse  to  the  grave,  and  he  is  laid  to  rest  in 
consecrated  ground,  surrounded  by  the  tokens  and  sym- 
bols of  Religion.  In  many  cases  he  can  only  advance  his 
most  authorized  interests  by  taking  an  oath,  based  upon 
religious  ideas.  He  is  willing  to  serve  his  country,  by 
shedding  his  life's  blood  at  her  command — he  can  not  do 
so  unless  he  takes  the  oath  of  allegiance  before  God;  he 
applies  to  the  legal  authorities  to  maintain  his  rights — he 
is  straightway  called  upon  for  an  oath.  He  can  not  give 
his  testimony  before  his  fellow-citizens  without  an  oath; 
neither  can  he  without  first  having  taken  the  oath  of 
office,  uphold  the  rights  of  the  people,  nor  enter  into  pos- 
session of  any  public  office.  A  passionate  resistance  met 


UNIVERSALITY  OF  RELIGIOUS  FORMS  35 

and  overwhelmed  the  recent  attempt  in  England  and 
France  to  substitute  a  formal  assurance  of  honor  and 
conscience  for  the  customary  religious  oath.  Through 
out  the  whole  length  and  breadth  of  the  civilized  world 
there  is  not  a  single  ncok  or  corner  to  be  found,  in  which 
the  autocratic  yoke  of  Religion  has  been  shaken  off. 

We  learn  from  history  that  the  family,  property, 
State  and  Religion  are  the  forms  in  which  civilization 
has  developed.  Well,  none  of  these  four  forms  includes 
such  a  large  number  of  individuals  as  the  last.  There 
are  many  persons  standing  outside  the  pale  of  family  life 
— such  as  foundlings,  and  the  street  arabs  of  large  cities, 
although  in  later  years  they  may  found  a  family  by 
marriage  or  concubinage.  Habitual  criminals  and  the 
very  poor,  do  not  recognize  the  principles  of  property. 
Tn  the  midst  of  our  highly  regulated  civilization,  with  its 
multiplicity  of  laws,  its  governmental  machinery  and  its 
army  of  public  officials,  there  are  isolated  groups,— 
the  gypsies  for  example,  in  almost  every  country  in 
Europe — who  do  not  join  the  organization  of  the  State; 
their  births,  marriages  and  deaths  are  never  recorded, 
they  never  pay  taxes,  nor  serve  out  terms  of  military 
service ;  they  are  without  a  fixed  place  of  residence,  or 
political  nationality,  and,  even  if  they  desired  it,  would 
experience  no  little  difficulty  in  entering  upon  a  normal 
civil  life,  because  they  could  produce  none  of  the  be- 
sealed  and  besignatured  documents,  without  which  the 
son  of  modern  civilization,  numbered  and  ticketed,  can 
not  receive  an  official  recognition  of  his  life,  nor  of 
his  death.  But  the  case  is  different  with  Religion; 
the  number  of  those  without  the  fold,  is  exceedingly 
small.  A  society  of  freethinkers  was  founded  in 
Germany  which  offered  to  those  who  had  thrown  off 
the  inherited  fetters  of  Religion,  the  opportunity  of 


34  THE  LIB  OF  RELIGION. 

declaring    their    emancipation.     It    numbers    hardly    a 
thousand  members  after  several  years,  and  even  of  these, 
many  are  officially  claimed  on  the  records  of  religious 
communities^     A  law  was  passed  in  Austria  to  legalize 
the  act  of  withdrawing  from  the  church,  but  less  than  five 
hundred  persons  have  availed  themselves  of  its  privileges 
and  of  this  number,  the  majority  were  not  persons  con- 
strained by  their  sense  of  honor  to  bring  their  outward 
lives   into   harmony  with   their  inward  convictions,  but 
were  either  persons  of  different  religions  who  wished  to 
be  united  in  matrimony  and  met  on  neutral  ground  by 
mutually  renouncing  the  religion  in  which  they  had  been 
brought  up,  or  else  Jews,  who  fancied  they  could  escape 
from  the  popular  prejudice  against  their  race,  by  pro- 
claiming officially  the  fact  that  they  had  renounced  the 
faith  of  their  fathers.     This  latter  motive  came  into  play 
so  frequently  that  the  terms  Jew  and  "creedless"  became 
almost  synonymous  in  Austria,  so  that  the  secretary  of 
the  Vienna  University  used  to  remark  good-naturedly. 
"Why  don't  you  say  right  out  that  you  are  a  Jew?"  when 
some  candidate  for  admission  to  the  University,  replied. 
"Creedless,"  when  asked  to  what  religion  he  belonged — 
one  of  the  usual  questions  put  to  candidates.     France  is 
the  country  where  liberty  of  thought  has  obtained  from 
the  laws,  but  not  from  society,  the  most  extensive  con- 
cessions from  the  yoke  of  Religion.     But  even  in  France, 
a  large  majority  of  the  freethinkers  remain  in  the  bosom 
of  the  church  to  which  their  parents  belonged,  they  go  to 
mass  and  confession,  they  are  wedded  before  the  altar, 
they  bring  their  children  to  be  baptized  and  confirmed, 
and  they  summon  +V3  priest  to  the  bedside  of  their  dying 
friends.      The   number    of    those    tfho  bring  up    thei* 
children  without  baptism  or  confirmation,  is  very  small, 
and  still  fewer  express  a  wish  for  a  so-called  civil  funeral. 


THE  HABIT  OP  RELIGION.  35 

In  liberty-loving  England  the  laws  and  public  opinion 
allow  us  to  belong  to  any  sect  or  religion  Ave  choose,  we 
can  be  Buddhists,  or  worship  the  sun  with  the  Parsees, 
but  we  are  not  allowed  to  announce  ourselves  as  atheists. 
Bradlaugh  had  the  audacity  to  proclaim  his  atheism.  He 
was  in  consequence  spurned  by  society,  turned  out  of 
Parliament  and  involved  in  an  incredibly  expensive  law- 
suit. So  powerful  is  the  influence  of  Religion  upon  every 
mind,  so  difficult  is  it  to  break  loose  from  the  habit  of 
belonging  to  some  church  directly  or  indirectly,  that  even 
the  atheists  who  are  trying  to  substitute  for  the  ancient 
faith,  a  new  ideal  more  in  accordance  with  our  view  of 
the  universe,  are  so  wanting  in  courage  that  they  retain 
fot  their  new  conceptions  founded  upon  reason,  the  title 
of  Religion,  which  is  so  connected  with  the  follies  of  the 
human  race.  There  are  some  associations  of  freethinkers 
in  Berlin  and  in  other  places  in  northern  Germany,  who 
have  found  no  better  name  for  their  communities,  than 
"the  Free  Religion  Societies"  and  David  Friedrich 
Strauss  calls  an  ideal  belief,  whose  essence  is  the  non- 
existence  of  any  religion  not  perceptible  by  the  senses, 
the  "Religion  of  the  Future."  Does  not  that  recall  to 
mind  the  anecdote  of  the  freethinker  who  exclaimed:  "By 
the  Almighty,  I  am  an  atheist." 


II. 

This  is  the  place  to  anticipate  misconstructions  of  my 
meaning.  When  I  call  Religion  a  conventional  lie  cf 
civilized  society,  I  do  not  mean  by  the  word  Religion,  a 
belief  in  super-natural,  abstract  powers.  This  belief  is 
sincere  with  most  people.  It  still  exists  unconsciously 
even  in  men  of  the  highest  culture,  and  there  are  but  few 
children  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,  w  V  K.ve  become  so 


36  THE  LIB  OF  RELIGION. 

convinced  of  the  inevitable  necessity  of  viewing  the  world 
from  the  standpoint  of  natural  science,  that  this  conviction 
has  penetrated  into  the  farthest  recesses  of  their  minds, 
where  moods,  sentiments,  and  emotions  are  evolved,  be- 
yond the  control  of  the  will.  In  these  mysterious  depths 
ancient  prejudices  and  superstitions  still  mainta.'n  their 
supremacy  and  it  is  incomparably  more  difficult  to  drive 
them  out,  than  it  is  to  frighten  away  the  owls  and  bats 
from  the  nooks  and  crannies  of  a  steeple  belfry. 

In  this  sense,  that  is,  as  a  partially  or  entirely  uncon- 
scious clinging  to  transcendental  ideas,  Religion  is  in  fact 
a  physical  relic  of  the  childhood  of  the  human  race;  I  go 
still  further  and  say  that  it  is  a  functional  weakness, 
caused  by  the  imperfectness  of  our  organ  of  thought,  one 
of  the  manifestations  of  our  finiteness.  I  shall  take  pains 
to  explain  this  assertion  so  that  it  may  be  perfectly  com- 
prehended. 

Philology  and  comparative  mythology  and  ethno- 
graphy have  already  made  numerous  contributions  to  the 
history  of  the  evolution  and  development  of  religious 
thought,  and  psychology  has  been  successful  in  its  attempt 
to  distinguish  those  qualities  in  the  soul  which  compelled 
primeval  man  to  the  conception  of  the  supernatural,  which 
is  still  retained  by  the  man  of  culture  of  today. 

It  was  not  until  centuries  of  civilization  and  untold 
generations  had  passed  away  after  the  days  of  those  com- 
prehensive thinkers,  Pythagoras,  Socrates  and  Plato,  that 
a  reflecting  man  awoke  to  the  consciousness  that  certain 
conceptions  are  not  essential,  but  only  forms  or  divisions 
of  human  thought.  At  the  first  dawning  of  a  brighter 
day  for  the  intellect,  the  new  ideas  would  overthrow  the 
entire  structure  of  thought  built  up  by  primitive  man,  with 
a.  violence  which  the  child  of  modern  civilization  accus- 
tomed to  abstractions  and  unable  to  appreciate  the  enor- 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  PRIMITIVE  MAN.  37 

mous  effort  of  mind  required  to  abolish  the  old  and  receive 
the  new.  is  unable  to  comprehend.  To  the  savage,  time 
space  and  causality  are  as  real  and  material  as  the  things 
themselves,  which  surround  him,  and  of  which  he  can  take 
cognizance  by  his  coarsest  sense,  that  of  touch.  He  imagines 
time  to  be  a  monster  that  devours  his  own  children;  space 
seems  to  him  to  be  a  wall  built  around  the  horizon,  or  else 
the  union  of  the  visible  earth  with  the  heavens,  which  he 
looks  upon  as  a  vast  roof  or  dome,  and  causality  appears  to 
him  so  necessary  and  inseparable  from  appearances,  that 
he  gives  it  the  simplest  and  to  him  most  reasonable  form: 
tracing  effects  to  their  causes  by  ascribing  them  to  the 
direct  action  of  some  being  like  himself.  If  a  tree  falls 
in  the  forest,  some  organic  being  must  have  thrown  it 
down;  if  the  earth  trembles,  somebody  below  must  be 
shaking  it,  and  as  this  vague  generality  of  "somebody"  is 
not  easily  grasped  by  his  undeveloped  mind,  he  gives  it 
the  convenient  form  of  a  human  being.  This  identical 
process  of  thought  is  called  forth  by  all  the  phenomena 
which  take  place  around  him.  Unresisting  slave  to  his 
conceptions  of  causality,  he  tries  to  discover  the  cause  of 
every  effect  he  notices,  arid,  as  he  recognizes  his  own  will 
as  the  source  of  his  own  actions,  he  applies  this  experi- 
ence, the  result  of  his  individual  observation,  to  nature  in 
general  and  sees  in  every  one  of  its  phenomena  the  oper- 
ations of  the  arbitrary  will  of  some  being  like  unto  him- 
self. But  now  arises  for  the  first  time  a  cause  for  per- 
plexity and  astonishment.  When  his  wife  starts  the  fire 
by  rubbing  two  dry  sticks  together,  when  his  companion 
kills  an  animal  with  his  stone  hatchet,  his  senses  apprehend 
the  causes  of  the  blaze  and  of  the  animal's  death. 
But  when  the  storm  blows  over  his  hut,  or  he  is 
bruised  by  the  hail,  he  can  not  see  the  Being  that  is  mal- 
treating him  in  this  fashion.  He  can  not  iloubt  that  this 


38  THE  LIE  OF  RELIGION. 

Being  exists  and  is  somewhere  close  at  hand,  for  there 
iies  his  hut  in  ruins,  and  the  cuts  made  by  the  hail-stones 
are  bleeding,  and  somebody  must  have  done  it  and  done 
it  intentionally.  But  as  he  can  not  find  this  malevolent 
Being,  his  mind  is  filled  with  that  horrible  dread  which  is 
always  aroused  by  unknown  danger,  against  which  we  are 
not  able  to  defend  ourselves — this  sentiment  is  the  be- 
ginning of  Religion. 

It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  all  travelers  who  have 
had  opportunities  for  observing  savages,  are  unanimous 
in  saying  that  the  sentiment  of  Religion  among  them  is 
expressed  exclusively  as  superstitious  fear.  And  naturally 
so.  Unpleasant  occurrences  are  not  only  more  frequent, 
but  more  forcible  than  pleasant  ones,  and  they  produce  a 
deeper  and  more  violent  internal  and  external  effect  than 
the  latter.  An  agreeable  sensation  is  borne  stolidly  and 
passively;  the  intellect  is  not  called  upon  to  define  it; 
*nuscles  and  brain  can  remain  at  rest.  But  a  disagreeable 
sensation  forces  itself  at  once  upon  the  consciousness  and 
makes  necessary  a  series  of  actions  of  the  intellect  and 
will,  to  discover  and  remove  its  cause.  Hence  it  comes 
that  primitive  man  was  aroused  to  a  perception  of  the 
malevolent  powers  of  nature  before  he  became  aware  of 
those  which  are  his  benefactors.  He  devoted  no  thoughts 
to  the  facts  that  the  sun  warmed  him  and  the  fruit  supplied 
him  with  food,  because  he  could  eat  the  fruit  and  lie 
down  in  the  sunshine,  without  any  effort  of  mind,  and  he 
only  exerted  himself  to  think,  when  compelled  to  do  so. 
Dangers  and  calamities  on  the  contrary,  roused  him  to  in- 
tellectual and  psychical  activity  and  peopled  the  world 
of  his  imagination  wit1*  enduring  figures.  It  was  only  at 
a  far  more  advanced  stage  of  intellectual  development 
that  man  became  distinctly  sensible  of  the  pleasures  that 
life  offered  him,  and  instead  of  enjoying  them  instinctive- 


PEAR  THE  BASIS  OF  ALL  RELIGIONS.  39 

ly,  appreciated  them  with  his  consciousness.  The  next 
step  was  to  trace  them  to  the  beneficent  will  of  some 
Being  possessing  the  attributes  of  humanity,  and  love, 
and  gratitude  and  admiration  were  the  necessary  results. 
Until  this  comparatively  late  period  of  civilization,  his 
only  sentiments  in  regard  to  the  invisible  and  unknown 
power,  which  stormed,  thundered  and  lightened,  and 
overwhelmed  him  with  all  kinds  of  misfortunes  and  pains, 
were  of  unmixed  dread  and  horror. 

Upon  this  sentiment  of  fear  are  based  all  the  primi- 
tive forms  of  religious  worship.  Care  was  taken  not  to 
provoke  the  invisible,  powerful  enemy  and  the  lively, 
childlike  imagination  of  prehistoric  man,  his  trains  of  in- 
coherent reasoning,  made  it  easy  for  him  to  see  in  any 
circumstance  a  possible  source  of  annoyance  to  his  great 
enemy.  If  he  was  provoked,  no  pains  were  spared  to 
appease  him.  His  avarice  was  gratified  by  spreading 
presents  before  him,  offering  him  sacrifices.  His  vanity 
was  flattered  by  singing  his  praises,  and  glorifying  his 
virtues.  Man  humbled  himself  before  him,  tried  to  toucli 
him  by  prayers  and  supplication,  and  even  occasionally 
to  frighten  him  by  threats.  Prayers,  sacrifices  and  vows 
are  thus  expressions  of  the  same  sentiment,  which  Darwin 
in  his  work  "Expression  of  Emotions  in  Man  and  Ani- 
mals," claims  to  be  the  cause  of  the  wagging  and  crouch- 
ing of  the  dog,  the  purring  of  the  cat,  and  the  bowing  and 
removal  of  the  hat  by  civilized  man — acts  of  submission 
to  a  more  powerful  being.  To  condense  these  details — 
causality,  which  is  one  form  of  human  thought,  was  con- 
ceived of  by  primitive  man  as  something  necessarily 
material  and '  concrete.  He  sought  for  every  circum- 
stance which  disturbed  him,  some  cause  near  at  hand.  His 
incapability  of  carrying  on  abstract  thought  confined  him 
to  concrete  conceptions  which  appeared  to  his  imagination 


rO  THE  LIB  OF  RELIGION. 

in  the  form  of  accustomed  figures.  He  thus  became  an 
anthropomorphite,  that  is,  he  imagined  all  forces,  every- 
thing capable  of  producing  a  phenomenon,  in  the  form  of  a 
human  being,  with  consciousness,  will  and  organs  to  per- 
form the  bidding  of  the  latter,  his  mind  being  unable  to 
comprehend  a  force  independent  of  an  organic  body. 
Causality  thus  led  him  to  the  acceptation  of  a  necessary 
cause  for  all  phenomena,  his  incapability  of  abstract  reason- 
ing, to  anthropomorphism — to  his  peopling  nature  with  a 
personal  God,  or  with  personal  gods  and  goddesses,  and 
his  fear  of  these,  who  appeared  to  him  as  enemies,  to 
propitiatory  sacrifices  and  prayers,  that  is  to  an  external 
worship.  This  is  one  of  the  roots  of  Religion  in  primitive 
man  and  it  is  still  imbedded  in  the  heart  of  the  man  of 
our  civilization.  Even  intellects  of  high  culture,  sufficient- 
ly advanced  in  reasoning,  to  be  beyond  considering  time 
and  space  as  material  existences,  are  yet  in  the  habit  of 
looking  upon  causality  as  something  essential;  they  have 
not  yet  climbed  to  the  height  of  abstract  reasoning, 
from  whence  causality  appears  no  longer  as  a  con- 
comitant to  the  phenomenon,  but  as  a  certain  form  of 
thought.  And  as  to  anthropomorphism,  it  is  still  carried 
on  today;  not  only  by  the  child  who  enjoys  fairy -tales,  in 
which  the  wind  and  the  trees  converse  together  and  the 
stars  fall  in  love  with  each  other,  but  also  by  the  grown 
up  man,  in  the  secret  intimacy  of  his  inner  life,  which  is 
never  entirely  freed  from  the  results  of  his  childhood's 
habits.  Is  it  not  remarkable  that  the  fashionable  philo- 
sopher of  our  own  day,  with  a  curious  return  to  primitive 
ideas,  has  built  up  his  system  upon  the  same  hypothesis 
from  which  were  evolved  the  rudimentary  conceptions  of 
the  cave-dwellers  of  prehistoric  ages,  as  well  as  those  of 
the  natives  of  Australia  of  today,  viz.  upon  the  accepta- 
tion of  a  will  as  not  only  the  necessary  condition  preced- 


JCHOPENHAUER'S  PHILOSOPHY  A  CASE  OF  ATAVISM.     43 

ing  every  phase  of  activity,  but  also  of  the  very  existence, 
of  every  object.  This  ascribing  certain  faculties,  which 
we  know  by  experience  to  belong  to  us,  to  surrounding  inan- 
imate objects,  this  effort  to  attribute  their  material  form  to 
the  pre-existence  of  some  will-power  in  them,  because  it  is 
impossible  to  separate  the  actuality  of  a  human  being 
from  the  necessarily  accompanying  will,  with  its  arbitrary 
and  constantly  exercised  power — is  certainly  a  return  to 
the  very  first  stage  of  the  intellectual  activity  of  the 
human  race.  Schopenhauer  has  succeeded  in  sublimating 
and  super-refining  his  system  and  clothing  it  in  techni- 
cal, scientific  terms,  which  give  it  a  fine  and  dignified 
appearance,  so  that  he  can  present  it  with  a  good  grace  to 
people  of  culture,  but  its  kernel  is,  notwithstanding,  the 
most  astonishing  case  of  atavism  which  is  to  be  found  in 
the  whole  history*  of  philosophy — a  history  which  is.  pre- 
eminently a  record  of  remarkable  returns  of  the  human 
intellect  to  ancient  follies  and  dreams  long  since  out- 
grown and  supposed  to  have  been  consigned  to  oblivion. 
When  we  find  that  a  profound  thinker  like  Schopenhauer, 
standing  upon  the  height  of  modern  culture,  can  attribute 
to  inorganic  things  a  will-power  like  that  of  man,  in  order 
to  comprehend  them,  although  even  in  man,  many  things 
are  constantly  taking  place,  beyond  the  influence  of  the 
will,  such  as  change  of  matter,  growth,  etc.,  when  we  see 
that  this  system  receives  a  cordial  welcome  from  large 
numbers  of  the  most  cultured  and  intelligent  members  of 
modern  society,  we  are  enabled  to  comprehend  in  all  their 
details,  the  ideas  of  the  mammoth-hunter  of  the  quarternary 
period,  who  in  generalizing  the  petty  experiences  of  his 
own  limited  personality,  could  only  conceive  of  nature 
by  imagining  behind  every  phenomenon  some  compell- 
ing power  like  himself,  made  after  his  image,  only  more 
powerful  and  awe-inspiring,  with  a  larger  stone  hatchet 


42  THE  LIE  OF  RELIGION. 

and  a  more  violent  appetite,    *nd  this  was  the  germ  from 
which  Religion  was  developed  later. 

The  conception  of  a  will-power  as  the  cause  of  the 
phenomena  of  the  universe,  that  is,  the  faith  in  a  personal 
God  or  gods,  is  however,  but  a  small  part  of  Religion. 
Religion  did  not  confine  its  transcendental  investigations 
to  nature  alone,  but  carried  them  on  to  man,  and  to  his 
position  in  the  universe.  To  the  number  of  religious 
conceptions  must  be  added  the  faiih  in  a  soul  and  its 
immortality  after  death.  This  belief  in  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,  first  rounded  the  preconceived  ideas  in 
regard  to  God,  into  a  comprehensive  system,  capable 
of  forming  the  foundation  for  a  structure  of  society  and 
morality  as  it  supplied  a*n  exact  definition  of  good  and 
bad,  and  a  distinction  between  vice  and  virtue. 
In  its  promises  of  future  reward  or  punishment,  which 
presuppose  the  immortality  of  the  individual,  with  his 
most  essential  attributes,  sensibility  and  conception,  it 
found  means  to  bring  man  into  agreement  with  its  views 
and  acceptation  of  its  theories.  This  belief  in  the  soul 
and  its  immortality,  was  not  evolved  from  causality  and 
anthropomorphism,  but  from  other  psychological  sources, 
for  which  we  will  proceed  to  search. 

Specialist  enquirers  have  discussed  extensively  the 
question  whether  the  belief  in  an  immortal  soul  preceded 
or  followed  the  belief  in  a  God,  and  whether  all  ideas  of 
Religion  were  not  evolved  from  the  doctrine  of  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul,  after  passing  through  the  intermedi- 
ate stages  of  demon-worship.  That  many  ancient  races 
and  modern  savage  tribes  consider  the  belief  in  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul  a  more  important  factor  of  their 
religion  than  the  belief  in  the  existence  of  a  God,  is  shown 
forcibly  by  the  worship  paid  to  the  dead  by  the  ancient 
Egyptians,  the  honors  offered  to  the  Lares  among  the 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  BELIEF  IN  THE  SOUL.  43 

Romans,  the  drinking  the  blood  of  slaughtered  enemies 
among  the  ancient  Celtic  and  Germanic  tribes,  and  the 
cannibalism  of  certain  tribes  in  Central  Africa  and  the 
South  Sea  Islands.  The  savage  does  not  drink  blood 
nor  eat  human  flesh,  merely  to  appease  his  hunger,  as  a 
superficial  observer  might  imagine,  but  from  a  super- 
stitious hope  that  the  virtues  of  the  slaughtered  enemy 
may  descend  upon  him  who  eats  or  drinks  a  part  of  his 
body.  It  is  however,  a  question  of  secondary  importance 
whether  the  belief  in  God  or  the  soul  is  the  most  ancient. 
One  thing  is  certain  and  acknowledged,  that  the  two 
beliefs  were  conceived  and  accepted  by  the  mind  of  man 
at  a  very  early  period.  He  became  convinced  of  the  fact 
that  there  was  something  withiii  him,  distinct  from  the 
body,  which  caused  life,  and  which  would  survive  the 
destruction  of  the  visible  frame.  An  incorrect  observa- 
tion and  a  mistaken  comprehension  of  the  laws  of  nature 
by  prehistoric  man,  led  to  the  belief  in  a  personal 
God,  and  the  belief  in  the  soul  was  caused  by 
observation  of  the  difference  between  a  living  and  a  dead 
being.  In  the  former  lie  could  feel  the  heart  beat,  and 
the  pulse  throb,  mysterious  actions  of  which  the  will  was 
not  the  controlling  force.  In  the  dead  man  all  was  silent 
and  still.  The  important  role  attributed  to  the  heart  as 
the  seat  of  the  affections  and  sentiments  in  the  usage  of 
language  to  this  day,  is  a  silent  testimony  of  the  intense 
interest  aroused  in  the  mind  of  primitive  man  by  the 
astonishing  movements  of  the  heart.  Nothing  is  easier  to 
an  untrained  mind  than  to  accept  any  two  succeeding 
phenomena  as  cause  and  effect. 

In  the  dead  human  being  nothing  is  stirring;  there- 
fore that  which  was  beating  and  hopping  in  the  living 
man,  must  have  been  the  cause  of  life.  When  the  man 
was  alive,  it  was  there ;  when  he  died,  it  vanished,  it  for- 


44  THE  LIE  OF  RELIGION. 

sook  the  body.  But  what  can  it  be?  To  this  question  the 
fanciful  imagination  of  primitive  man  produced  several 
answers,  giving  to  this  principle  of  life,  this  soul,  the 
form  of  some  creature.  Some  called  the  soul  a  dove, 
others,  a  butterfly,  and  those  capable  of  more  abstract 
conceptions,  imagining  it  to  be  a  shadow,  or  a  breath  of 
wind.  The  disquieting  and  inexplicable  phenomena  of 
sleep  and  dreams,  were  capable  of  an  explanation  by  the 
acceptation  of  such  ideas,  which  was  perfectly  satisfactory 
to  a  primitive  mind.  The  soul,  that  material  and  organic 
inhabitant  of  the  body,  that  kind  of  parasite  on  the 
living  organism,  experienced  at  times  a  desire  to  forsake 
its  cage.  When  this  happened,  the  body  was  left  in  a 
condition  very  similar  to  that  which  followed  its  final 
abandonment  by  the  soul:  it  knew  and  felt  nothing,  it 
did  not  move:  it  slept.  The  soul  went  somewhere;  it  did 
and  experienced  many  things,  of  which  an  indistinct 
recollection  was  retained  after  its  return,  and  these  were 
the  dreams.  Grimm  tells  a  story,  taken  from  Paulus 
Diaconus,  that  describes  how  a  certain  King  Gun  tram  lay 
down  to  sleep  when  out  hunting  one  day,  and  the  servant 
who  accompanied  him  saw  a  little  animal  resembling  a 
snake,  crawl  out  from  his  mouth  and  hasten  to  the  brook 
near  by,  which  it  was  unable  to  cross.  The  servant 
noticing  this,  drew  his  sword  from  its  scabbard  and  laid 
it  across  the  brook.  The  little  animal  crossed  over  upon 
the  sword,  and  after  an  absence  of  several  hours,  returned 
in  the  same  way,  and  crawled  back  into  the  king's  mouth. 
The  king  then  awoke  and  told  his  companion  how  he  had 
dreamed  of  coming  to  an  immense  river,  which  he  had 
crossed  upon  an  iron  bridge,  etc.  Grimm  relates  another 
legend  of  the  same  kind,  about  a  maid  out  of  whose  mouth 
crept  a  little  red  mouse  after  she  had  fallen  asleep;  some 
one  then  turned  her  over  upon  her  face,  so  that  when  the 


little  mouse  returned,  it  was  unable  to  enter  her  mouth, 
and  as  a  consequence  she  awoke  no  more.  But  where 
was  this  mysterious  inhabitant  of  the  human  body,  the 
cause  and  explanation  of  the  great  phenomena  of  life  and 
death,  of  sleep  and  dreams,  where  did  it  live  before  the 
birth  of  its  landlord  and  where  did  it  go  at  the  death  of 
the  latter?  It  had  occupied  other  bodies  before  this,  and 
would  go  into  still  others  afterwards;  this  was  the  doctrine 
of  transmigration  of  souls.  Another  theory  was  that  it 
was  born  with  the  body,  but  lived  after  it,  remaining 
always  in  its  vicinity;  this  was  the  theory  believed  by  the 
ancient  Egyptians,  which  led  to  their  careful  preservation 
of  the  dead  body.  In  no  case  did  primitive  man  conceive 
of  it  as  ceasing  to  exist  with  the  living  body.  And  this 
is  quite  natural;  absolute  non-existence  is  an  idea  be- 
yond the  reach  of  the  human  intellect;  it  is  even  entirely 
opposed  to  human  thought.  We  can  not  expect  a  machine 
to  exert  an  amount  of  power  beyond  the  strength  and 
capacity  of  its  constituent  parts.  The  conception  of  abso- 
lute non-existence  is  an  effort  beyond  the  power  of  human 
intellect.  We  say  that  Nature  abhors  a  vacuum ;  human 
processes  of  thought  have  the  same  horror  vacui.  That 
which  thinks  in  man,  is  his  I,  his  Ego;  it  is  the  foundation, 
the  necessary  presupposition  of  the  act  of  thinking;  without 
the  Ego,  no  thought,  no  conception,  not  even  sensibility 
— the  idea  of  non-existence  is  conceived  by  the  Ego,  but 
while  it  is  trying  to  represent  the  idea  of  absolute  non- 
existence  to  itself,  it  has  at  the  same  time  the  full  con- 
sciousnes  of  its  own  existence,  and  this  coincident  impress- 
sion  prevents  completely  any  real,  distinct  conception  of  the 
actuality  of  non-existence.  In  order  to  grasp  this  idea 
clearly  and  convincingly,  the  Ego  would  be  obliged  to 
suspend  its  consciousness  of  existence  for  a  few  moments, 
cease  to  be  conscious,  cease  to  think.  In  this  state  of 


46  THE  LIB  OF  RELIGION. 

course,  it  would  not  be  capable  of  conceiving  of  non- 
existence.  This  is  the  clrculus  vitiosus  which  man,  owing 
to  the  nature  of  his  thinking  apparatus,  is  not  able  to 
pass.  As  long  as  he  thinks,  his  Ego  is  fully  conscious  of 
its  existence  and  not  able  to  grasp  the  idea  of  non-exist- 
ence; but  on  the  contrary,  if  his  Ego  loses  consciousness 
of  its  existence,  it  has  ceased  to  think  and  can  thus  grasp 
nb  ideas  at  all. 

By  a  miracle  of  abstract  reasoning,  the  philosopher* 
of  India  conceived  the  idea  of  Nirvanah,  the  absolut* 
Nothing,  the  absolute  non-existence  of  matter  and  motion 
The  human  mind  is  capable  of  comprehending  this 
conception  of  an  absolute  Nothing,  when  universe  and 
Ego  alike  can  cease  to  exist.  But  it  is  incapable  of 
grasping  the  idea  of  an  annihilation  of  the  Ego,  while  the 
world  lives  on.  How  can  these  things  around  us,  which 
are  only  there,  because  we  are  cognizant  of  them,  whose 
existence  outside  of  our  perceptions  would  be  absolutely 
inconceivable,  how  can  they  continue  to  exist  if  that  which 
first  gave  them  their  existence,  our  Ego,  which  perceives 
them,  has  ceased  to  exist.  It  is  inconceivable.  We  can  grasp 
the  idea  of  a  Nirvanah,  when  the  entire  phenomena  of  the 
universe  and  the  Ego,  would  cease  simultaneously  to  exist; 
it  is  not  only  possible,  but  in  a  certain  sense  would  prove 
a  source  of  egotistical  consolation  to  some  minds.  But 
that  the  Ego  can  cease  to  exist,  while  the  world  lives  on, 
is  an  idea  which  can  not  enter  upon  our  field  of  thouo-ht, 
bounded  as  it  is,  on  all  sides  by  the  limitations  of  the 
Ego.  We  can  be  swept  off  our  feet  by  a  torrent  of 
technical  words  and  phrases,  we  can  compose  all  sorts  of 
philosophical  formulas  and  definitions,  and  argue  ourselves 
into  a  state  of  apparent  conviction  that  we  are  conveying 
the  ideas  clearly  and  forcibly  to  our  brains  by  constantly 
repeating  certain  definitions  and  axioms.  But  in  reality, 


IMMORTALITY  ONE  FORM  OF  SELF-PRESERVATION.       4? 

we  can  no  more  conceive  of  absolute  non-existence,  than 
we  can  of  eternity,  and  neither  of  these  terms  conveys 
any  exact  idea  to  our  minds.  The  fact  that  a  few  master- 
minds have  succeeded  in  gaining  a  kind  of  dim  suspicion 
of  their  meaning,  too  illusory  to  be  described  in  words, 
is  one  of  the  greatest  triumphs  of  the  human  intellect.  If 
it  were  possible  to  carry  on  a  train  of  thought  independent 
of  the  consciousness  of  the  Ego,  it  would  be  in  the  nature 
of  a  raising  ourselves  out  of  and  beyond  our  actual  selves. 
Of  course  primitive  man  was  incapable  of  such  super- 
human mental  effort.  Centuries  of  intellectual  discipline 
have  only  prepared  us  to  formulate  the  problem.  The 
immortality,  the  continual  existence  of  the  Ego,  was  re- 
cognized as  an  inherent  necessity,  in  the  earlier  stages  of 
mental  development.  And  this  conception  was  refined 
from  its  first  crude  form,  the  corporal  resurrection  and  con- 
tinued existence  of  the  dead,  into  the  belief  in  the  immor- 
tality of  the  spiritual  or  intellectual  attributes  of  each 
individual. 

This  is  what  I  meant  when  I  said  above,  that  Re- 
ligion was  a  functional  weakness,  caused  by  the  imper- 
fectness  of  our  organ  of  thought,  and  one  of  the  manifes- 
tations of  our  finiteness.  Man  arrived  at  his  belief  in  God 
by  the  operations  of  causality  and  the  incapability  of 
imagining  any  forces  or  causes,  except  in  organic  forms, 
such  as  he  was  accustomed  to  see  around  him.  He  ar- 
rived at  his  belief  in  the  soul,  by  a  false  and  illogical  ob-- 
servation  of  the  phenomena  of  life  and  death,  of  sleep 
and  dreams,  and  at  his  faith  in  the  continued  existence  of 
the  soul,  by  the  impossibility  experienced  by  his  Ego,  of 
imagining  itself  as  non-existing.  The  theory  of  a  con- 
tinued existence  after  death  is  nothing  more  than  a  certain 
manifestation  of  the  impulse  for  self-preservation,  as  the 
impulse  for  self-preservation  itself,  is  nothing  more  than 


48  THE  LIB  OF  RELIGION. 

the  form  under  which  our  vital  energies,  that  have  their 
seat  in  every  single  cell  of  our  organism,  manifest  them- 
selves to  our  consciousness.  Energy  to  live  is  identical 
with  the  wish  to  live.  Any  one  who  has  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  many  people  die,  will  acknowledge  the 
fact  that  people  become  easily  resigned  to  death  when 
weakened  by  disease  or  old  age,  but  that  there  is  a  ter- 
rible struggle  before  the  end  is  accepted  as  inevitable,  by 
a  strong  and  promising  nature,  stricken  down  by  some 
accident  at  the  opening  of  life's  career.  Suicide  appears 
to  be  a  contradiction  to  my  assertion ;  it  certainly  pre- 
supposes an  extremely  powerful  will,  which  is  as  certainly, 
only  the  outgrowth  of  an  equally  powerful  vitality;  hence 
it  seems  as  if  in  suicides,  the  energy  to  live  is  in  direct 
opposition  to  the  wish  to  live.  But  in  reality,  suicide, 
except  in  those  cases  where  it  is  due  to  some  temporary 
aberration  of  the  intellect,  is  merely  an  inconsiderate  act 
to  protect  one's  life  against  certain  dangers  that  threaten 
it.  The  suicide  throws  himself  into  the  arms  of  death  be- 
cause he  dreads  some  impending  physical  or  emotional 
disturbances;  he  would  not  have  resorted  to  this  extreme 
measure  unless  he  had  still  prized  life,  for  otherwise  he 
would  hare  had  no  reasons  for  fearing  any  disasters,  that 
even  at  their  worst,  could  only  have  deprived  him  of  life. 
Every  suicide  is  an  example  of  the  same  frame  of  mind 
which  impels  the  soldier  to  commit  suicide  before  the  battle, 
for  fear  that  he  may  be  shot  during  the  day  —  conse- 
quently a  proof,  not  of  weariness  of  life  nor  of  indifference 
to  death,  but  of  exactly  the  opposite  sentiments.  The 
axiom  that  the  wish  and  the  energy  to  live  are  identical, 
is  thus  proved  to  have  no  exception,  and  this  wish  to  live 
continues  in  the  very  presence  of  death. 

Every  organic  being,  conscious  of  its  life  and  vitality 
in  every  cell,  finds  it  impossible  to  realize  the  idea  of  a 


PRIMEVAL  CONCEPTIONS  STILIi  EIFE.  49 

complete  cessation  of  its  rich  and  delightful  material  ac- 
tivity. We  can  conceive  of  the  death  of  some  one  else  as 
probable  and  possible,  but  we  consider  our  own  existence 
as  eternal  and  our  own  death  as  some  remote  and  improb- 
able contingency.  Only  by  the  aid  of  the  most  advanced 
intellectual  culture,  by  accumulating  a  vast  number  of  ab- 
stractions and  analogies,  and  using  them  like  the  rounds 
of  a  ladder,  do  we  climb  to  a  height  in  which  our  intellec- 
tual and  our  emotional  natures  are  able  to  realize  the  fact 
that  the  succeeding  generations  are  merely  a  continuation 
and  development  of  those  that  have  gone  before,  and  to  find 
a  consolation  in  the  permanence  and  evolution  of  the  human 
race  as  a  whole,  for  the  perishableness  of  the  individual. 
The  causes  which  led  to  the  growth  of  transcenden- 
tal ideas  in  prehistoric  man  have  the  same  effect  upon  the 
civilized  man  of  today,  although  sometimes  they  exert 
their  influence  in  the  sphere  of  the  Unconscious.  Anthro- 
pomorphism has  still  an  influence  upon  every  mind  which 
does  not  wateh  over  the  conception  and  growth  of  its 
ideas  with  the  strictest  severity;  it  is  so  convenient  to 
clothe  abstract  thoughts  in  familiar  expressions,  and  all  of 
us  can  recall  many  occasions  when  we  represented  to 
ourselves  or  to  others  sor-e  spiritual,  immaterial  idea 
under  the  form  of  some  circumstance  or  appearance  that 
had  come  under  our  observation  in  the  animal  or  vege- 
table world.  And  the  incapability  of  realizing  any 
possible  non-existence  of  the  Ego,  is  as  marked  now  as  it 
ever  was.  The  superstition  of  primitive  man,  which  we 
have  inherited  direct,  exerts  a  powerful  influence  upon  us 
as  we  enter  the  realms  of  the  Unconscious.  The  French 
philosopher  T.  Ribot,  observes  that  heredity  is  to  the  race 
what  memory  is  to  the  individual  —  that  is,  heredity  is 
the  memory  of  the  species.  Every  man  carries  in  his 
mind  the  ideas  of  his  ancestors,  usually  unconsciously 


50  THE  ME  OF  RELIGION. 

but  dimly  recognized;  some  external  disturbance  however 
occurs,  and  they  blaze  up,  casting  a  %ht  as  bright  as  day 
upon  the  entire  inner  world  of  intelligence  and  emotions. 
Heredity  is  a  curse  from  which  we  can  not  escape.  It  is 
impossible  for  us  to  change  the  shape  of  our  features  or  of 
our  bodies,  and  in  the  same  way  it  is  impossible  for  us  to 
alter  the  mental  physiognomy  of  our  thought,  bequeathed 
to  us  with  the  former  by  our  ancestors.  This  explains  the 
trait  of  superstition  which  is  often  absolutely  beyond  the 
control  of  the  reason  or  will,  and  which  we  notice  with 
such  surprise  in  ourselves,  and  in  others  of  the  most  ex- 
tensive culture;  it  also  explains  that  exaltation  of  reli- 
gious sentiment  to  which  persons  of  poetic  temperament 
are  so  liable,  because  they  are  particularly  susceptible  to 
the  influence  of  heredity.  This  source  of  superstitious 
ideas,  heredity,  can  be  only  controlled  and  done  away 
with  by  the  accumulated  efforts  of  many  generations. 
Centuries  will  be  required  to  produce  a  human  being,  who 
from  his  birth  up,  is  prepared  to  comprehend  life  and  the 
universe  from  the  point  of  view  of  reason  and  natural 
science,  without  prejudice  or  superstition,  because  a 
hundred  generations  before  him  had  been  convincing 
themselves  of  the  correctness  of  this  point  of  view. 

We  on  the  contrary,  are  predisposed  to  look  upon 
the  phenomena  of  this  life  and  the  world,  from  an  irra- 
tional and  superstitious  standpoint,  owing  to  the  fact  that 
not  hundreds,  but  hundreds  of  thousands  of  generations 
before  us,  have  been  in  the  habit  of  carrying  on  a  false 
and  mistaken  habit  of  thought  and  theorizing.  Among  the 
causes  which  led  to  the  conception  of  Religion  and  its 
continued  existence  in  the  human  mind,  are  some  which, 
although  not  capable  of  producing  by  themselves  the 
ideas  of  God,  the  soul  and  immortality,  were  yet  power- 
ful in  impressing  and  perpetuating  them  upon  the  heart 


COWARDICE  OXE  SOURCE  OP  RELIGIOUS  SENTIMENT.      51 

of  man.  One  of  these  accessory  causes  of  the  continua- 
tion of  religious  sentiments,  is  the  natural  cowardice  of 
man ;  he  dislikes  to  cut  himself  loose  from  any  powerful 
organization,  to  stand  alone,  only  supported  by  his  own 
will,  with  no  invisible  helper  or  protector  to  come  to  his 
assistance.  The  human  race  rarely  produces  an  indi- 
vidual who,  realizing  his  power,-and  upheld  by  an  exalted 
self -appreciation,  is  prepared  to  enter  alone  upon  life's 
battle-field,  on  which  he  must  wield  his  sword  and  shield 
with  might  and  skill  to  come  out  as  victor  or  even  alive. 
These  exceptional  men,  who  offer  the  finest  and  most 
perfect  types  of  our  race,  become  party  leaders,  con- 
querors, rulers  of  the  people.  They  look  with  contempt 
upon  the  beaten  paths,  and  open  new  highways  for  them- 
selves. They  do  not  accept  with  patient  resignation  what 
destiny  offers  them,  but  hew  out  for  themselves  a  new 
destiny,  even  if  they  know  they  will  perish  in  the  attempt. 
But  the  great  multitude  of  mankind  has  not  this  inde- 
pendence. The  average  individual  prefers  to  enter  upon 
the  struggle  for  existence,  supported  by  hundreds  of 
others,  and  turn  a  close,  serried  front  to  the  enemy.  They 
want  to  feel  an  armed  comrade  behind  and  at  each  elbow, 
and  in  front  too,  if  possible.  They  like  to  listen  to  the 
words  of  command,  and  have  their  movements  determined 
by  a  higher  authority.  Such  men  cling  to  Religion  as  to 
a  weapon  and  a  consolation.  What  a  comfort  to  imagine 
that  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult  and  smoke  of  the  battle,  a 
protecting  shield  is  held  up  in  front  of  them  by  a  watchful 
God  or  guardian  angel!  The  humblest  tailor  or  day- 
laborer  can  have  the  satisfaction  of  sharing  the  privilege 
of  Achilles  who  was  protected  by  the  invisible  shield  of 
Pallas  Athene  during  the  battle  on  the  plains  of  Troy. 
And  what  a  sense  of  strength  fills  the  mind  of  him  who 
feels  that  at  all  times  and  in  all  places,  he  is  armed  with 


58  THE  LIE  OF  RELIGION. 

a  powerful  weapon  —  prayer!  It  is  difficult  to  despair 
when  one  believes  that  a  word,  a  supplication,  will  re- 
move any  disturbing  element  from  his  path.  To  take  an 
extreme  case,  —  an  aeronaut  falls  from  the  car  of  his 
balloon,  a  thousand  feet  high.  If  he  is  a  freethinker,  he 
knows  that  he  is  lost  and  that  there  is  no  power  on  earth 
that  can  prevent  his  body  from  being  smashed  to  pieces 
on  the  ground  beneath,  in  less  than  ten  seconds.  But  if 
he  is  a  believer  in  God,  he  retains  during  the  entire  ex- 
tent of  his  fall,  or  at  least  until  he  loses  consciousness,  a 
hope  that  some  superhuman  power,  to  which  he  offers  up 
supplications  of  intense  fervor  as  he  falls,  will,  to  save 
him,  suspend  the  laws  of  nature  for  a  few  minutes  and 
deposit  him  gently  and  softly  upon  the  ground.  As  long 
as  he  retains  consciousness  the  impulse  of  self-preserva- 
tion maintains  its  sway,  and  he  clings  obstinately  to  a 
visionary,  superstitious  possibility,  even  against  such  an 
irrevocable  sentence  of  death  as  has  been  passed  upon 
him.  The  human  heart  has  no  more  precious  possession 
than  illusion.  And  what  more  beneficent  and  consoling 
illusion  could  there  be  than  the  self-deception  of  faith  in 
God  and  prayer?  In  consequence  of  this  fact  the  majority 
of  mankind  will  continue  to  seek  refuge  from  life's  pains 
and  griefs  in  conceptions  founded  on  a  childish  super- 
stition, until  they  become  so  impressed  by  and  convinced 
of  the  necessity  of  viewing  the  world  from  the  standpoint 
of  natural  scienre,  that  they  learn  to  consider  the  death 
of  an  individual,  even  although  it  be  their  own,  as  a  cir- 
cumstance of  the  most  trifling  importance  for  their  race 
and  the  universe  —  not  until  the  solidarity  of  mankind 
has  become  so  generally  and  firmly  organized  that  each 
individual  will  turn  instinctively  for  help  to  his  fellow- 
men  in  any  disasters  that  befall  him,  and  not  to  an  in- 
comprehensible, supernatural  power. 


NECESSITY  OF  AN  IDEAL.  53 

Another  one  of  these  causes  of  the  continuation  of 
Religion,  which  I  have  designated  as  accessory,  consists 
in  the  necessity  for  an  ideal  that  is  experienced  by  all 
human  hearts,  even  the  rudest  and  most  uncultivated. 
What  is  this  ideal?  It  is  the  remote  type  towards  which 
mankind  is  developing  and  perfecting  itself;  not  only 
the  type  of  physical  perfection,  but  the  type  of  the  inner 
life,  of  the  mode  of  thinking,  and  of  the  constitution  of 
society.  The  impulse  towards  this  ideal,  the  longing  to 
attain  to  it,  are  implanted  in  the  breast  of  every  intellect- 
ually and  physically  normal  man;  it  is  something  or- 
ganically inherent  in  him,  of  which  he  is  not  necessarily 
conscious,  and  in  which  even  in  the  deepest  and  closest 
thinker,  there  is  always  much  that  is  unconscious.  In 
building  a  railroad  embankment,  a  row  of  wooden  stakes 
is  first  driven  into  the  ground,  of  the  same  height  and 
extending  as  far,  as  the  embankment  is  to  be;  then  the 
workmen  shovel  dirt  upon  the  stakes  until  they  are 
entirely  covered  up  and  lost  to  sight.  Every  living  being 
contains  within  itself  a  law  for  its  growth  and  develop- 
ment, which  fulfills  the  same  purpose  as  the  stakes  in  the 
embankment;  it  grows  and  developes  in  accordance  with 
this  law,  trying  to  fill  out  the  invisible  but  none  the  less  real 
framework  which  it  has  built  up  for  itself,  as  the  embank- 
ment grows  and  finally  covers  up  the  stakes.  If  an  or- 
ganism developes  so  that  it  coincides  at  all  points  with 
the  figure  which  represents  the  extreme  limit  of  its 
capacity  for  development,  it  has  reached  perfection  and 
fully  attained  to  its  ideal.  Usually  each  individual  being 
remains  far  behind  the  ideal  of  its  type,  but  its  effort  to 
reach  it  is  the  mysterious  compelling  force  of  its  instinct  for 
self-prese-vation  and  development,  that  is,  of  all  organic 
activity.  The  race  as  a  whole,  has  also  its  standard  of 
development,  and  everything  within  it  to  raise  it  to  thia 


54  THE  LIE  OP  RELIGION. 

standard,  as  --veil  as  the  individual.  Like  the  individual 
every  species  has  its  law  of  growth.  It  arises,  has  that 
within  it  which  impels  it  to  attain  to  a  certain  standard  of 
size  and  strength,  and  last  a  certain  length  of  time,  it 
grows  to  a  certain  point,  and  then  retrogrades  and  van- 
ishes from  the  face  of  the  earth,  making  way  for  a  more 
elevated  form  of  life,  to  which  it  served  as  a  stepping 
stone,  or,  I  might  say  as  a  sketch  or  design.  Paleontology 
makes  us  acquainted  with  a  long  list  of  animal  species, 
who  lived  during  one  or  more  geological  periods,  and 
chen  became  extinct.  The  same  is  also  true  of  the  human 
race.  It  forms  one  zoological  entity  taken  as  a  whole, 
and  is  governed  by  one  law  of  life.  It  had  its  origin  in 
a  certain  geological  age  (whether  this  was  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  Quaternary  epoch,  or  in  the'  middle  or  latter 
part  of  the  Tertiary  period  is  a  matter  of  little  moment), 
according  to  analogy,  it  will  become  extinct  in  some  other 
geological  period  in  the  future.  We  can  only  guess  at  the 
forms  of  life  that  preceded  it,  and  those  that  are  to  follow 
it  are  even  beyond  our  imagination.  But  as  long  as  the 
human  race  lives  upon  earth,  as  long  as  it  has  not  attained 
to  the  summit  of  its  development,  it  will  continue  to  strug- 
gle earnestly  to  fill  in  the  invisible  framework  of  its  preor- 
dained culture  and  progress  and  this  struggle  for  the  reali- 
zation of  its  ideal,  the  growth  to  the  height  of  its  unseen 
standard,  is  felt  and  experienced  by  every  single  member 
of  the  human  family,  with  the  exception  of  idiots,  although 
of  course  most  men  perceive  it  only  dimly  and  without 
comprehending  its  true  import.  This  dim  perception 
becomes  consciousness  in  cultivated  minds.  In  others, 
less  cultivated,  it  remains  in  the  stage  of  an  indistinct, 
impelling  longing,  which  we  can  call  an  impulse  towards 
higher  things,  or  a  yearning  for  the  ideal,  as  we  may  pre- 
fer, and  which  under  either  name,  is  nothing  else  than  an 


RELIGION  A  NECESSITY  TO  THE  LOWER  CLASSES.         55 

intense  longing  to  emerge  from  our  individual  isolation 
and  feel  more  distinctly  our  unity  with  our  fellow-men. 
The  chain  that  unites  all  men  of  one  race  into  a  race,  and 
binds  the  species  itself  into  one  zoological  entity,  making 
of  it  one  individual  of  a  higher  order,  presses  upon  every 
human  heart,  and  is  felt  by  all  distinctly  as  a  solidarity. 
This  solidarity  is  constantly  seeking  expression.  Once  in 
a  while  every  man  feels  the  need  of  knowing  that  he  is  a 
fragment  of  a  mighty  whole,  of  convincing  himself  that 
the  great  current  of  race  development  is  flowing  through 
his  veins  side  by  side  with  the  current  of  individual  self- 
development  and  that  his  individual  existence  is  but  a 
trivial  episode  in  the  grand  total  of  human  existence.  In 
this  consciousness  of  his  identification  with  a  majestic, 
supreme  organism  that  is  living,  flourishing  and  develop- 
ing more  gloriously  from  day  to  day  with  no  saddening 
end  in  view,  he  finds  an  unspeakably  deep  and  tender 
consolation  for  the  narrowness,  limitations  and  brevity  of 
his  individual  span  of  existence.  The  man  of  culture 
finds  a  thousand  opportunities  for  satisfying  this  need 
without  leaving  his  library  or  his  drawing-room.  Study 
of  the  development  of  the  human  race  during  the  centur- 
ies described  by  history,  self  oblivion  in  the  works  of  the 
great  thinkers  and  poets  of  all  ages,  or  enjoyment  of  the 
harmonies  of  the  universe  made  audible  by  science,  or  if 
these  solitary  means  are  not  sufficient,  social  intercourse 
with  minds  of  wide  and  liberal  mental  horizons, — these 
opportunities  are  offered  to  him,  and  grant  him  an  outlook 
and  an  escape  from  his  own  individual  and  isolated 
existence  into  the  magnificent  realm  of  humanity.  But 
how  is  it  with  the  man  on  a  lower  social  scale?  Where 
does  he  find  an  opportunity  to  merge  his  separate  exist- 
ence into  that  of  collective  mankind?  When  is  it  proved 
to  him  that  he  is  justified  in  and  capable  of  elevating  the 


56  THE  LIB  OF  RELIGION. 

conditions  of  his  life  above  those  of  the  cattle  that  feed, 
beget  their  kind,  and  pass  away?  When  does  he  ever  find 
the  time  in  his  struggle  for  his  daily  bread,  in  his  constant 
and  weary  efforts  to  keep  himself  supplied  with  the  bare 
necessaries  of  life,  when  does  he  find  an  opportunity  for 
communion  with  his  inner  self,  for  raising  his  thoughts  to 
higher  things,  for  taking  observations  of  his  true  position 
in  regard  to  the  human  race  and  nature?  Until  the  pres- 
ent day  the  working  man  has  only  attained  to  a  higher 
existence  by  means  of  Religion.  The  ideal  only  appeared 
to  him  in  the  disguise  of  religious  belief.  The  Sunday 
was  not  only  a  day  of  physical  rest  to  him,  but  an  oppor- 
tunity for  the  development  of  all  the  blossoms  of  his 
mind.  The  church  was  his  drawing-room,  the  minister  his 
more  elevated  intercourse,  God  and  the  Saints,  his  dis- 
tinguished friends.  When  in  the  cathedral  he  realized 
that  he  was  in  a  grand,  magnificent  structure,  that  yet 
belonged  to  him  as  much  as  the  wretched  hovel  that  shel- 
tered his  poverty  from  day  to  day.  In  the  worship  of  God 
he  found  himself  taking  part  in  a  service  that  had  no 
direct  influence  upon  the  questions  of  food  and  clothing, 
but  was  entirely  separate  from  his  every-day  life  with  its 
purely  physical  interests.  Surrounded  by  other  true  be- 
lievers he  felt  himself  an  authorized  member  of  a  great 
community,  and  the  connection  between  himself  and  his 
neighbors,  was  expressed  openly  to  his  senses  by  the 
external  symbols  of  worship,  kneeling,  rising  and  making 
the  sign  of  the  cross,  which  all  performed  in  concert. 
The  sermon  was  the  only  elevated  discourse  which  he  ever 
had  the  opportunity  of  hearing,  and  it  aroused  him  some- 
what, even  if  very  slightly,  from  his  customary  train  of 
dull,  rudimentary  thought.  This  is  the  reason  why  he 
continues  to  cling  to  Religion  with  such  fervor,  and  it  will 
remain  a  powerful  and  influential  obstacle  against  his 


THE  SUBSTITUTE  FOR  RELIGION  IN  THE  FUTUBK.        57 

acceptation  of  modern  ideas,  unless  the  new  culture 
offers  him  some  substitute  for  the  emotions  and  satis- 
factions of  his  human  self-consciousness  which  he  has 
hitherto  found  in  Religion. 

This  substitute  will  be  provided;  it  is  even  now 
partly  suggested.  Intercourse  with  the  poets  and  think- 
ers of  all  ages,  through  their  works,  will  supersede  the 
sermon;  the  theatre,  concert  hall  and  assembly  room  will 
render  the  meeting-house  unnecessary.  The  germs  of 
future  formations  are  already  perceptible  on  all  sides.  Ih 
those  countries  which  enjoy  political  freedom,  the  unculti- 
vated masses  meet  at  certain  times  and-  discuss  or  listen 
to  discussions,  concerning  the  common  interests  of  the 
place  or  of  the  country,  finding  in  such  meetings  their 
Sunday  rest  and  recreation  On  election  days,  in  places 
where  universal  suffrage  prevails,  the  working  man  is 
filled  with  a  proud  self-esteem  as  a  complete  man,  even 
more  than  that  he  experiences  in  the  common  observance 
of  religious  worship.  Many  societies  have  been  formed 
for  ethical  and  literary  culture;  in  some  of  them  essays 
or  extracts  from  works  of  poetry  are  read  aloud,  and  i " 
these  meetings  a  more  human  and  liberal  intercourse  pre- 
vails than  was  possible  with  the  minister.  It  is  only  to 
be  regretted  that  these  societies  have  not  yet  penetrated 
to  the  lowest  scales  of  our  social  system,  where  they  are 
needed  the  most.  But*  these  germs  are  developing.  A 
time  is  coming  and  is  perhaps  near  at  hand,  when  we  will 
see  a  civilization  in  which  men  will  satisfy  not  transcen- 
dental ly,  but  according  to  reason,  their  need  for  rest  and 
recreation,  for  elevation  of  their  ideas,  and  their  longing 
for  emotions;  when  a  solidarity  of  the  human  race  will  be 
the  worship  of  a  progressive  and  enlightened  age.  By  a 
return  to  primitive  customs,  such  as  history  has  often  had 
to  record,  the  theatre  will  again  be  the  place  of  meeting 


58  THE  LIE  OF  BELIGION. 

and  worship,  as  it  was  two  and  a  half  thousand  years  ago 
among  the  Greeks.  But  not  the  theatre  of  today  with  its 
indecent  plots,  its  street-song  melodies,  its  idiotic  laughter 
and  its  semi-nudity,  but  a  theatre  where  we  will  see  in 
beautiful,  corporate  forms  the  passions  struggling  with 
the  will,  and  personal  greed  conquered  by  the  capability 
for  self-denial,  and  where  with  every  word  and  action,  like  a 
grand  accompaniment,  we  will  hear  a  continual  reference 
to  the  collective  existence  and  development  of  the  human 
race.  The  unity  of  benevolence  will  succeed  to  the  unity 
of  worship.  And  what  different  emotions  will  be  aroused 
in  man  by  these  future  festivals  of  all  humanity!  The 
mysticism  of  the  priest  can  not  rival  the  clear,  rational 
beauty  of  poetry.  An  intellect  expands  as  it  follows  the 
scenes  of  human  passion  in  some  noble  drama,  while 
it  remains  passive  during  the  mysterious  symbols  of  a 
church  service,  with  no  reason  nor  meaning  in  it.  The 
discourse  of  a  scientist  as  he  explains  the  phenomena  of 
nature,  the  speech  of  some  distinguished  politician  dis- 
cussing the  questions  of  the  day  in  regard  to  the  State 
and  the  commonwealth,  have  a  much  more  vivid  and 
direct  interest  for  the  listeners  than  the  monotonous  re- 
petitions of  the  preacher,  as  he  relates  worn-out  myths, 
and  dilutes  orthodox  doctrines  for  his  flock.  The  adoption 
of  orphans  by  the  community,  the  distribution  of  clothing 
and  other  presents  among  destitute  children,  testimonials 
of  honor  to  deserving  fellow-citizens  on  suitable  occasions 
in  the  presence  of  the  public,  accompanied  by  songs  and 
music  and  carried  on  with  order  and  dignity — such  obser- 
vances as  these  would  surely  give  each  participant  a  very 
different  idea  of  the  mutual  duties  and  responsibilities  of 
citizens  and  men  and  of  their  unity,  due  to  the  ties  of  mutual 
interests  and  privileges,  in  short,  of  their  solidarity,  than 
dipping  their  dirty  fingers  simultaneously  into  a  basin  of 


THE  ESTABLISHED  RELIGIONS.  0ft 

holy  water,  or  praying  and  singing  in  concert.  Such  is 
my  idea  of  the  civilization  of  the  future.  I  am  convinced 
that  the  day  will  come  when  even  the  humblest  man  will 
find  his  individual  life  merged  into  the  fuller  life  of 
the  community,  and  his  isolated,  circumscribed  horizon 
broadened  by  means  of  festivals  of  poetry,  music,  art, 
thought  and  humanity,  until  it  coincides  with  the  horizon 
of  the  entire  human  race,  thus  leading  him  on  to  nobler 
standards  of  development  and  setting  before  him  the 
grand  ideal  of  a  perfected  humanity.  Until  this  picture 
of  the  future  becomes  reality,  however,  the  masses  will 
continue  to  seek  the  ideal  exaltation  which  they  find  no- 
where else,  in  Religion,  or  rather  in  its  external  forms, ' 
the  lofty  cathedral  buildings,  the  vestments  of  the  priests, 
the  organ's  tones,  the  anthems,  and  all  the  other  mystic  ac- 
cessories of  worship. 


III. 

The  foregoing  explanations  make  my  meamag  clear 
ihat  the  longing  experienced  by  man  for  a  higher  in- 
tellectual growth  and  an  ideal,  for  a  consolation  always 
ready  at  hand  and  even  for  the  self-deception  of  a  power- 
ful and  mysterious  protector  in  all  emergencies,  is  no  false 
pretension,  but  a  genuine  and  ineradicable  sentiment. 
We  have  also  seen  that  this  sentiment  necessarily  found 
its  gratification  in  the  belief  in  God,  the  soul  and  immor- 
tality, impelled  thereto  by  historical,  physiological  and 
psychological  reasons.  The  continuation  and  perpetuation 
of  these  transcendental  ideas  is  no  conscious  intentional 
fraud  in  most  men,  no  voluntary  self-deception;  it  is  ar 
honest  weakness,  a  habit  which  they  can  not  break,  a 
poetical  sentimentality  which  they  piously  defend  from 
the  ruthless  attacks  of  rational  analysis.  This  is  not  what 


60  THE  LIE  OF  RELIGION. 

I  mean  by  the  conventional  lie  of  Religion.  By  this  term 
I  wish  to  express  the  reverence  paid  by  men,  even  of  the 
most  advanced  culture,  to  the  positive,  external  forms  of 
Religion,  its  dogmas,  doctrines,  observances,  festivals, 
ceremonies,  symbols  and  ministers. 

This  reverence  is  a  lie  and  a  fraud,  even  in  those  who 
are  most  deeply  sunk  in  transcendentalism,  unless  they 
have  remained  completely  uninfected  by  the  views  and 
culture  of  the  present  day.  It  is  a  lie  and  a  fraud,  and  it 
would  certainly  bring  the  blush  of  shame  to  our  cheek,  if 
we  had  not  fallen  into  the  habit  of  doing  so  many  things 
without  reflection,  without  enquiring  into  their  significance 
"at  all.  Owing  to  the  force  of  habit  we  go  regularly  to 
church,  bow  reverently  to  the  minister,  and  take  up  our 
Bible  with  solemnity;  we  assume  mechanically  an  ex- 
pression of  awe  and  inward  reflection  when  we  are  taking 
part  in  a  church  service,  and  we  avoid  any  exact  com- 
parison of  its  outward  observances  with  our  convictions, 
taking  especial  pains  to  close  our  eyes  and  minds  to  the 
disgraceful  treason  which  we  are  committing  by  these 
acts  against  all  our  knowledge,  our  convictions,  and  every- 
thing that  we  recognize  and  cling  to  as  truth.  Historical 
investigations  have  revealed  to  us  the  origin  and  growth 
of  the  Bible;  we  know  that  by  this  name  we  designate  a 
collection  of  writings,  as  radically  unlike  in  origin,  charac- 
ter and  contents,  as  if  the  Nibelungen  Lied,  Mirabeau's 
speeches,  Heine's  love  poems  and  a  manual  of  zoology, 
had  been  printed  and  mixed  up  promiscuously,  and  then 
bound  into  one  volume.  We  find  collected  in  this  book 
the  superstitious  beliefs  of  the  ancient  inhabitants  of 
Palestine,  with  indistinct  echoes  of  Indian  and  Persian 
fables,  mistaken  imitations  of  Egyptian  theories  and  cus- 
toms, historical  chronicles  as  dry  as  they  are  unreliable, 
and  miscellaneous  poems,  amatory,  human  and  Jewish — 


THE  BIBLE.  61 

national,  which  are  rarely  distinguished  by  beauties  of 
the  highest  order,  but  frequently  by  superfluity  of  ex- 
pression, coarseness,  bad  taste  and  genuine  Oriental  sen- 
suality. As  a  literary  monument  the  Bible  is  of  much 
later  origin  than  the  Vedas;  as  a  work  of  literary  value  it 
is  surpassed  by  everything  written  in  the  last  two  thou- 
sand years  by  authors  even  of  the  second  rank,  and  to 
compare  it  seriously  with  the  productions  of  Homer, 
Sophocles,  Dante,  Shakespeare  or  Goethe,  would  require 
a  fanaticized  mind  that  had  entirely  lost  its  power  of 
judgment;  its  conception  of  the  universe  is  childish,  and 
its  morality  revolting,  as  revealed  in  the  malicious  ven- 
geance attributed  to  God  in  the  Old  Testament  and  in 
the  New,  the  parable  of  the  laborers  of  the  eleventh  hour 
and  the  episodes  of  Mary  Magdalen  and  the  woman  takeu 
in  adultery.  And  yet  men,  cultivated  and  capable  of 
forming  a  just  estimate,  pretend  to  reverence  this  ancient 
work,  they  refuse  to  allow  it  to  be  discussed  and  criticised 
like  any  other  production  of  the  human  intellect,  they 
found  societies  and  place  enormous  sums  at  their  disposal 
to  print  millions  of  copies  of  it,  which  they  distribute  all 
over  the  world,  and  they  pretend  to  be  edified  and  in- 
spired when  they  read  in  it. 

The  formulas  used  in  public  worship  by  all  estab- 
lished religions  are  founded  upon  ideas  and  customs  which 
originated  in  the  most  ancient  barbaric  periods,  in  Asia 
and  northern  Africa.  We  can  see  the  traces  of  the  wor- 
ship of  the  sun  by  the  Aryans,  of  the  mysticism  of  the 
Buddhists  and  of  the  worship  of  Isis  and  Osiris  by  the 
Egyptians,  in  the  observances  and  prayers  of  public  wor- 
ship and  in  the  festivals  and  offerings  of  Jews  and  Christ- 
ians of  the  present  day.  And  the  people  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Century  assume  a  reverent  and  solemn  expression 
*s  they  repeat  the  kneelings,  gestures,  ceremonies  and 


62  THE  LIE  OF  RELIGION. 

prayers  invented  thousands  of  years  ago,  on  the  hanks  of 
the  Nile  or  the  Ganges,  by  the  miserable,  undeveloped 
human  beings  of  the  stone  or  bronze  ages,  to  manifest  in 
some  material  waj  their  conceptions  of  the  universe,  its 
origin  and  its  laws  —  all,  conceptions  of  the  rankest 
heathenism. 

As  we  study  this  disgraceful  comedy,  the  more  we  ex- 
pose to  view  the  grotesque  contrast  between  the  modern 
tone  of  mind  and  the  established  religions,  the  more  diffi- 
cult does  it  become  to  speak  calmly  and  dispassionately  on 
this  subject.  The  inconsistency  is  so  superhumanly  non- 
sensical, so  gigantic,  that  the  arguments  set  forth  in  detail 
against  it,  appear  as  inadequate  and  inefficient  as  a  broom 
to  sweep  out  the  sands  of  Sahara;  only  the  satire  of  a 
Rabelais  or  the  inkstand  of  a  Luther  thrown  against  it, 
could  do  it  justice. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  all  the  details  of  this 
sham  structure  of  Religion.  We  must  be  content  to  ac- 
cept a  few  of  the  most  significant.  Diplomatists  make 
use  of  all  possible  means  and  threats  to  induce  the 
Cardinals  to  elect  a  Pope  to  suit  them;  but  after  the 
tedious  and  obstinate  intrigues  have  been  led  to  the 
wished-for  conclusion,  these  same  diplomatists,  who  have 
been  pulling  the  strings  of  the  puppet  show,  manifest  a 
sudden  and  fervent  reverence  for  the  Pope's  authority  and 
person,  which  is  founded  upon  the  fiction  that  the  Holy 
Ghost  had  selected  him  as  the  successor  of  St.  Peter. 
This  election  of  a  Pope  is  regarded  by  thousands  upon 
thousands  of  people  as  a  solemn  and  important  occurrence 
who  would  laugh  at  a  description  of  the  ceremonies  at- 
tending the  installation  of  a  new  Grand  Lama  in  Thibet, 
upon  the  death  of  his  predecessor,  and  yet  these  cere- 
monies bear  a  striking  resemblance  to  each  other.  The 
Governments  of  various  countries  maintain  diplomatic  re« 


RELIGIOUS  RITES  VERSUS  ENLIGHTENMENT.  63 

lations  with  a  man  whose  importance  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  he  supplies  God  with  new  saints,  and  can  guarantee 
to  men  celestial  privileges  and  blessings,  and  liberate 
sinners  from  the  torments  of  being  burned  after  death; 
they  conclude  diplomatic  treaties  with  him  and  set  forth 
in  laws  and  decrees  that  the  Pope  has  great  influence  with 
God,  and  consequently  that  a  person  standing  in  sucli  in- 
timate intercourse  with  the  Supreme  Being,  and  sharing 
his  infallibility  to  such  an  extent,  should  receive  reverence 
and  homage  beyond  that  which  any  other  man  on  earth  is 
entitled  to.  And  yet,  these  same  Governments  send  out 
expeditions  to  the  Soudan,  and  laugh  at  the  pretensions 
of  the  black  Prophet  there,  who  forbids  their  emissaries  to 
eater  into  his  domain,  and  declares  that  he  will  strike 
them,  if  they  disobey  him,  with  the  anger  of  the  Supreme 
Fetish,  whose  prophet  and  favorite  he  is.  Who  can 
point  out  to  me  the  difference  between  that  poor  negro 
and  the  Pope  at  Rome?  Each  claims  to  be  the  high  priest 
of  God,  whose  thunder  and  lightning  he  can  control,  with 
the  privilege  of •  recommending  certain  people  to  God's 
favor  or  vengeance,  who  acts  upon  their  suggestions. 
Where  is  the  logic  of  the  cultivated  European  who  looks 
upon  one  as  an  absurd  pretender,  and  the  other  as  an  im- 
posing figure  worthy  of  all  reverence? 

Every  separate  act  of  a  religious  ceremony  becomes 
a  fraud  and  a  criminal  satire  when  performed  by  a  culti- 
vated man  of  this  Nineteenth  Century. 

He  sprinkles  himself  with  holy  water,  and  expresses 
by  the  act  his  conviction  that  the  priest  who  said  certain 
words  over  it,  accompanied  by  certain  gestures,  had  con- 
ferred some  mysterious  virtues  upon  it,  changing  its 
nature  in  some  way,  although  a  chemical  analysis  of  it 
would  show  that  it  differs  in  no  respect  from  any  other 
w?ter,  except  in  being  a  little  more  dirty.  He  repeats 


64  THE  LIE  OF  RELIGION. 

prayers,  kneels,  goes  to  church  services  with  all  their 
ceremonies,  and  thus  asserts  his  conviction  that  there  is  a 
God,  who  enjoys  prayers,  gestures,  incense  and  anthems, 
if  the  prayers  are  in  certain  stereotyped  words,  the 
gestures  in  certain  prescribed  forms,  and  the  ceremonies 
presided  over  by  persons  in  odd  clothing,  with  robes  and 
capes  of  such  peculiar  colors  and  shapes  as  no  sensible 
man  would  ever  dream  of  wearing.  The  fact  that  a 
liturgy  or  form  of  public  worship  once  established,  is 
observed  with  painful  minuteness,  can  only  be  explained 
to  a  rational  mind  somewhat  in  this  way:  the  priests 
learned  from  some  good  source,  and  acted  upon  this 
knowledge,  that  God  not  only  had  the  vanity  to  insist 
upon  praises,  compliments  and  flattery  being  offered  to 
Him  as  well  as  glorifications  of  His  goodness,  His  wisdom 
and  His  greatness,  but  combined  with  this  vanity  was  the 
whim  that  He  would  only  accept  these  praises  and  glori- 
fications when  they  were  offered  according  to  a  certain 
formula,  never  to  be  deviated  from.  And  the  men  of  our 
age  of  natural  science  pretend  to  reverence  these  litur- 
gies, and  will  not  allow  any  one  to  speak  of  them  with 
the  contempt  they  deserve. 

More  revolting  and  insufferable  even  than  the  lie  of 
Religion  as  acted  by  the  individual,  is  the  same  lie  of 
Religion  as  acted  by  the  community.  The  individual 
citizen  although  he  belongs  ostensibly  to  some  established 
religion,  and  takes  part  in  its  ceremonies,  often  makes  no 
secret  of  his  disbelief  in  its  superstitions,  and  refuses  to 
be  convinced  that  a  certain  form  of  words,  repeated  in 
concert  by  the  congregation  will  suspend  or  alter  the  laws 
of  nature,  that  the  devil  is  driven  out  from  an  infant  when 
sprinkled  with  holy  water,  or  that  the  chanting  and 
speech  of  a  man  in  a  black  or  white  robe  beside  a  corpse, 
will  open  the  gates  of  Paradise  to  the  soul  of  the  dead 


THE  STATE  A  DEFENDER  OF  SUPERSWTION.  65 

man.  But,  as  a  member  of  the  community  and  of  the 
body  politic,  this  same  citizen  does  not  hesitate  to  declare 
necessary  all  the  points  claimed  by  the  established  re- 
ligions, and  he  offers  up  to  them  all  the  substantial  and 
spiritual  sacrifices  which  the  salaried  minister  of  this 
superstition,  recognized  and  supported  by  the  State,  may 
demand.  The  same  Government  that  builds  universities, 
schools  and  libraries,  builds  churches  too;  the  same  Gov- 
ernment that  pays  salaries  to  professors,  supports  the 
ministers  also;  the  same  code  of  laws  that  compels  chil- 
dren to  go  to  school,  forbids  blasphemy  and  any  ex- 
pression of  scorn  or  defiance  of  established  religions. 
What  do  these  incongruities  mean?  This  is  their  meaning: 
we  say  that  the  earth  stands  still  and  the  sun  revolves 
around  it,  although  science  has  proved  the  contrary  be- 
yond a  doubt;  that  the  earth  is  only  about  five  thousand 
years  old,  and  no  monuments  from  Egypt  or  anywhere 
else,  known  to  be  thousands  of  years  older,  will  be  ac- 
cepted as  contradicting  this  fact.  We  are  not  imprisoned 
in  lunatic  asylums  for  asserting  these  incongruities  to  be 
reconcilable  truths;  we  are  not  declared  incapable  of 
filling  office  and  carrying  on  our  business,  although  we 
have  certainly  given  the  most  striking  proofs  ot  mental 
imbecility,  and  that  we  do  riot  possess  the  intellectual 
qualifications  for  looking  after  our  own  affairs,  much  less 
the  destinies  of  the  country  entrusted  to  us.  As  private 
citizens  we  assert  that  we  do  not  believe  in  the  existence 
of  God,  that  the  God  of  the  established  religions  is  the 
outgrowth  of  childish  and  undeveloped  minds;  but  as 
members  of  the  body  politic,  we  declare  any  one  holding 
such  views  to  be  guilty  of  blasphemy  before  the  law  and 
incapable  of  holding  office.  And  this,  notwithstanding 
the  fact  that  no  scientific  or  rational  proof  has  ever  been 
offered  in  evidence  of  the  reality  of  God,  that  even  the 


66  THE  LIE  OF  RELIGION. 

most  enthusiastic  theologian  can  produce  no  testimony  to 
prove  the  existence  of  God,  that  approaches  in  clearness 
and  convincing  force,  that  offered  by  the  archgeologian  and 
geologist  to  prove  the  antiquity  of  the  earth  and  its  in- 
habitants,  or   by  the  astronomer  to  convince  us  of  the 
revolution  of  the  earth  around  the  sun;  notwithstanding 
the  fact  that  a  man  is  excused,  even  from  a  theological 
standpoint,  much  more  readily  when  he  doubts  the  exis- 
tence of  God,   than    when   he   questions   the  results  of 
scientific  investigations,  which  are  capable  of  such  ovei 
whelming  demonstration.      Besides   this,    the   State  ap- 
points professors  and  pays  their  salaries  out  of  the  govern- 
ment revenue,  bestows  upon  them  authority  and  is  always 
ready  to  help  them  enforce  it,  and  these  professors  are 
commissioned  to  teach  and  to  prove  that  the  occurrences 
of  this  world  are  regulated  by  natural  laws,  that  physio- 
logy recognizes  no  organic  difference  in  the  formation  of 
all  living  beings,  and  that  twice  two  are  four.     But  in 
addition  to  these  professors  of  the  exact  sciences,  the  State 
appoints  professors  of  theology,   who  are  commissioned 
likewise  to  teach,  but  necessarily  not  to  prove,  to  assert 
however,  that  the  newborn  babe  is  cursed  with  original, 
inborn  sin,  that  God  dictated  to  certain  men  a  book  to 
be  reverenced  as  holy,  that  on  numerous  occasions  the 
laws  of  nature  were  suspended  as  a  favor  to  certain  human 
beings,  that   by   murmuring   certain    words    over    some 
dough  it  is  changed  into  flesh,  and  this  flesh  is  part  of  the 
body  of  a  human  being  who  died  almost  two  thousand  years 
ago,  and  that  three  persons  are  one,  and  one,  three.  When 
a  law-abiding  citizen  listens  in  succession  to  a  lecture  on 
science  delivered   by   some  professor  appointed  by  the 
Government,  and  then  to  a  sermon  preached  by  some  pro- 
fessor of  theology,  also  appointed  by  the  Government  and 
armed  with   the  same  authority  —  his   mind   must   be 


OBTAINING  MONEY  UNDER  FALSE  PRETENSES.  67 

in  a  curious  predicament  between  the  two.  One  tells 
him  that  after  death  the  organism  is  resolved  to  its 
constituent  elements;  the  other  describes  how  certain 
persons  not  only  remained  uncorrupted  by  death,  but 
awoke  again  to  life.  And  both  doctrines  are  presented  to 
him  under  the  authority  of  the  State,  the  taxes  he  pays 
are  applied  on  their  salaries,  and  the  teachings  of  both 
are  declared  by  the  Government  to  be  equally  true  and 
necessary.  Which  professor  is  the  unlucky  citizen  to  be- 
lieve? The  theologian?  Then  the  State  is  taxed  to  sup- 
port a  willful  liar  as  professor  of  physiology,  his  theories 
and  assertions  must  be  arbitrary  deceptions,  and  yet  he  is 
commissioned  to  educate  the  young  men  of  the  country. 
Or  is  he  to  believe  the  scientist?  Then  the  theological 
professor  is  the  liar,  and  the  Government  pays  for  de- 
liberate lies  as  in  the  other  case.  Would  it  be  a  matter 
to  cause  surprise  if  the  loyal  citizen  between  the  horns  of 
this  dilemma,  should  lose  more  or  less  of  le  respect  he 
had  hitherto  felt  for  the  Government? 

And  even  this  is  not  all.  Those  old  women  who  get 
the  hard-earned  money  away  from  servant  girls,  under 
the  pretense  of  giving  them  a  love-philter  to  win  back  the 
hearts  of  their  inconstant  sweethearts,  are  arrested  and 
fined  by  the  authorities;  but  at  the  same  time  those  men 
are  paid  fine  salaries  and  upheld  by  the  authorities,  who 
obtain  the  money  of  the  servant  girls  by  the  no  less  false 
pretense  of  getting  their  defunct  relatives  out  of  the  fires 
of  purgatory,  by  some  hocus-pocus  arrangement.  Custom 
has  it  that  we  treat  the  clergy  and  the  high  dignitaries  of 
the  church,  the  bishops  and  cardinals,  with  excessive  re- 
verence, and  men  accept  this  custom  and  bow  before  it, 
who  in  their  hearts,  consider  these  men  as  cheats  or  sim- 
pletons, not  superior  in  any  way  to  the  medicine-men  of 
the  red  skins,  who  have  their  established  forms  of  worship 


68  THB  LIB  OF  RELIGION. 

too,  their  ceremonies  and  their  prayers,  and  are  held  in 
veneration  by  their  tribes  as  possessing  supernatural 
powers.  If  we  find  it  proper  to  ridicule  these  medicine- 
men, why  should  we  not  be  permitted  to  laugh  at  the 
ceremony  of  kissing  the  slipper  of  the  Pope  or  the  hand 
of  a  priest? 

The  newspapers  have  occasionally  recorded  the  fact 
with  humorous  comment,  that  the  Chinese  Government 
had  been  threatening  a  certain  god  with  deposition,  if  he 
should  fail  to  fulfill  the  prayers  of  the  people;  if,  for  ex- 
ample, he  did  not  send  the  rain  they  had  been  soliciting, 
or  had  not  secured  the  victory  to  the  imperial  army,  etc. 
But  these  same  newspapers  publish  in  the  most  prominent 
place,  governmental  decrees  —  as  for  example,  in  Eng- 
land, after  the  battle  of  Tel-el-Kebir  —  appointing  a 
day  for  the  people  to  assemble  and  give  thanks  to  God,  in 
a  regularly  appointed  formula,  for  that  He  had  been 
graciously  pleased  to  grant  them  the  victory.  What  is 
the  essential  difference  between  a  decree  of  the  Chinese 
Government  depriving  the  national  god  of  some  portion 
of  his  offerings,  because  he  had  permitted  an  epidemic  to 
scourge  the  land,  and  the  decree  of  the  English  Govern- 
ment, acknowledging  the  indebtedness  of  the  people  to 
God  because  He  had  taken  good  care  of  the  political  in- 
terests of  England  in  Egypt,  and  shown  Himself  the  true 
friend  of  the  British  and  the  enemy  of  the  Arabs.  Both 
decrees  are  founded  upon  the  same  ideas,  only  the  Chinese 
are  more  courageous  and  consistent  than  the  English,  who 
in  case  of  a  defeat,  would  not  venture  to  express  their 
disapprobation  of  His  indifference  to  the  duties  He  owes 
to  the  nation  that  worships  Him  so  zealously,  as  in  case  of 
a  victory,  they  award  Him  the  honor  and  praise. 

As  I  remarked  before,  it  is  impossible  to  describe 
this  gigantic  imposition  of  Religion  in  all  its  details;  I 


HYPOCBISY  OF  RELIGIOUS  OBSERVANCES.  69 

a»ti8t  confine  myself  to  some  of  its  leading  points  in  order 
to  avoid  incessant  repetitious.  This  fraud  penetrates  and 
demoralizes  our  whole  public  and  private  existence.  The 
State  is  guilty  of  imposition  when  it  sets  apart  special 
days  for  prayer  or  thanksgiving,  when  it  appoints  minis- 
ters and  calls  the  higher  clergy  into  the  House  of  Lords; 
the  community  is  guilty  of  the  same  lie  when  it  builds 
churches;  the  judge  is  acting  a  lie  when  he  is  passing 
sentence  upon  some  person  who  has  been  blaspheming  or 
insulting  God  or  the  church;  the  minister,  imbued  with 
the  modern  tone  of  thought,  knows  that  he  is  guilty  of  de- 
ception when  he  takes  pay  for  repeating  dogmas  and  con- 
ducting ceremonies,  which  he  is  fully  aware  are  nothing 
but  nonsensical  frauds,  —  the  enlightened  citizen  knows 
that  he  is  a  hypocrite  when  he  affects  an  outward  rever- 
ence for  the  man  of  God,  when"  he  goes  to  communion  or 
presents  his  child  for  baptism.  The  continued  existence 
and  growth  of  these  ancient,  partly  prenistoric  forms  of 
worship  in  the  midst  of  our  modern  civilization  is  a 
monstrous  fact,  and  the  position  accorded  to  the  minister, 
the  European  equivalent  of  the  Indian  medicine-man  and 
the  African  almamy,  is  such  an  insolent  triumph  of 
cowardice,  hypocrisy  and  mental  indolence  over  truth  and 
courage  of  opinion,  as  would  be  sufficient,  taken  alone, 
to  characterize  our  civilization  as  a  complete  imposition, 
and  our  political  and  social  conditions  of  life  as  necessarily 
temporary. 


1. 

If  we  were  able  to  consider  the  existing  institutions 
of  our  civilization  from  an  artistic,  esthetic  point  of  view 
alone;  if  it  were  possible  for  us  to  study  and  criticise  them 
with  the  abstract,  impersonal  interest  of  that  Persian 
Prince  Uzbek,  described  by  Montesquieu,  who  travelled 
in  foreign  countries  merely  in  search  of  amusement  and 
shook  their  dust  from  his  feet  when  he  had  left  them  be- 
hind him,  we  would  not  hesitate  to  accept  the  present 
arrangement  of  society  as  skillfully  and  consistently  con- 
structed, forming  an  harmonious  whole.  All  the  constitu- 
ent parts  are  arranged  in  order,  and  are  necessarily 
evolved  from  and  dependent  upon  each  other,  ascending 
from  the  lowest  to  the  highest,  in  an  unbroken,  logical 
sequence.  When  the  grand  gothio  structure  of  mediaeval 
state  and  society  was  erected,  it  presented  an  imposing 
appearance,  and  was  regarded  as  a  magnificent  and  com- 
fortable place  of  refuge  and  safety  by  those  whom  it 
sheltered.  Today  only  the  ornamental  facade  remains; 
the  useful,  habitable  portions  of  the  building  have  long 
since  fallen  into  decay,  so  that  any  one  seeking  for  shelter 
in  it  now,  finds  it  impossible  to  discover  a  single  nook  or 
corner,  in  which  he  can  be  protected  from  the  wind  or 
rain.  But  the  fayade  still  retains  its  former  beauty  and 
grandeur,  and  arouses  admiration  in  the  beholder  for 
the  genius  and  skill  of  the  architect.  Nothing  but  one 


RELIGION  INDISPENSABLE  TO  A  MONABCHY.  71 

wall  is  left  standing  today  of  what  was  once  a  fine  and 
solid  structure.  But  this  wall  is  an  architectural  work  of 
art  in  which  all  the  details  are  skillfully  and  harmonious- 
ly subordinated  to  the  general  design.  Of  course  we 
should  not  examine  this  architectural  monument  from  the 
heap  of  ruins  behind  it;  but  if  we  approach  it  from  the 
front,  keeping  far  enough  away  to  get  the  effect  of  the 
perspective,  and  studying  it  merely  as  an  artistic  creation, 
we  can  not  help  acknowledging  that  the  architect  has 
produced  a  master-piece. 

A  monarchy  owes  its  existence  and  perpetuation  to 
Religion.  The  latter  in  its  present  and  historical  form 
was  the  necessary  foundation  of  the  former.  An  estab- 
lished religion  however,  is  not  necessarily  dependent  upon 
a  monarchy  but  can  be  recognized  by  a  government, 
whatever  its  constitution.  Theoretically  this  needs  no 
demonstration.  It  has  been  practically  proved  by  the 
republics  governed  by  the  Jesuits  among  the  natives  of 
South  America,  and  the  United  States  of  North  America, 
whose  constitution  is  based  upon  the  principles  of  Relig- 
ion. An  hereditary  monarchy  on  the  contrary,  is  impossi- 
ble and  inconceivable  without  the  foundation  of  Religion. 
We  can  imagine  how  a  powerful  and  talented  man  might 
usurp  the  supreme  command  in  a  country  and  retain  it  by 
stratagem  or  force  of  arms;  he  could  conquer  the  na- 
tion by  some  coup  tfetat,  and  support  his  authority  by 
a  crowd  of  selfishly  interested  dependents,  whom  he 
could  attach  to  his  fortunes  by  material  advantages  and 
honors,  and  an  army  of  whose  devotion  he  could  make 
sure  by  a  succession  of  victories  and  opportunities  for 
plunder,  by  frequent  gifts  of  money  and  titles;  he  could 
call  himself  king  or  emperor  as  he  chose,  dic&tor  or  presi- 
dent, and  his  authority  be  recognized  as  supreme  because 
he  would  have  the  power  to  enforce  it.  It  is  even  poesi- 


72  THE  LIB  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

ble  that  the  majority  of  the  people  might  accept  willingly 
the  yoke  placed  upon  them   by  his  ambition,  not  only 
because  it  is  a  fundamental  trait  in  human  nature  to  be  so 
dazzled  by  the  sight  of  success  that  the  power  of  judg- 
ment is   temporarily   suspended,   but  also   because  the 
average  citizen  would  find  it  to  his  interest  and  advantage 
to  sustain  the  existing  state  of  affairs,  and  because  the 
ruler,  if  a  man  of  genius,  would  govern  so  wisely  that 
industries  and  trade  would  flourish,  the  laws  be  adminis- 
tered with  justice,  and  the  masses,  whose  interests  are 
centered  in  their  material  needs,  find  their  table  more 
abundantly  supplied,  and  the  hoard  of  savings  laid  by  for 
a  rainy  day  increasing.  Such  an  usurper  might  venture  to 
hold  his  own  without  the  aid  of  Religion.     He  might  find 
the  sword  sufficient  for  his  support  and  not  iioed  the  cross. 
He  would  have  no  cause  to  fear  tk.e  criticism  of  reason, 
because  he  could  oppose  material  force  against  its  deduc- 
tions.    The  logical  reasoner  might  say  to  him:  "You  are 
a  human  being  like  the  rest  of  us;  as  we  did  not  appoint 
you  voluntarily  to  be  a  ruler  over  us,  we  are  surely  not 
bound  to  pay  homage  to  you  and  obey  your  commands." 
To  which  the  tyrant  could  reply:  "Your  argument  is  in- 
disputable, but  so  is  my  army.     You  will  obey  my  com- 
mands not  because  they  are  rational  and  convincing,  but 
because  I  will  compel  you  to  do  so."     In  such  a  case  the* 
ruler  could  dispense  with  God's  aid ;  his  strong  arm  would 
be  sufficient.  He  would  not  feel  the  need  of  the  annointing 
oil  or  the  blessing  of  the  church,  as  he  would  have  plenty  of 
powder  and  his  bayonets  to  convince  the  subservient  mul- 
titudes of  his  supremacy,  as  efficacious  as  any  mystic  or 
gorgeous  coronation  ceremonies.    But  circumstances  might 
change,  even  for  such  a  despot  as  this,  if  he  had  a  son  for 
instance,  to  whom  he  wished  to  ensure  a  continuance  of 
bib  authority  after  his  death.     Then  he  would  place  him- 


A  DICTATORSHIP  CAN  DISPENSE  WITH  RELIGION.        73 

self  under  the  aegis  of  Religion.  He  would  recall  to  mine! 
the  fact  that  during  the  Middle  Ages,  the  churches  werf 
an  asylum  of  refuge,  and  he  would  hasten  to  seek  pro- 
tection at  the  foot  of  the  altar  from  the  pursuit  of  reason 
The  blade  of  the  sword  alone  is  no  longer  sufficient,  he 
must  have  the  cross  welded  to  it  for  a  handle. 

The  sources  of  the  tyrant's  power  are  too  clearly 
visible  to  all,  he  must  make  them  fade  into  indistinctness 
by  enveloping  them  in  a  cloud  of  incense.  The  hard 
facts  of  history  are  softened  in  a  mist  of  legendary  lore, 
and  the  priest  is  called  upon  to  reply  to  the  question: 
"Why  should  the  feeble  son,  who  never  could  carve  out 
a  throne  for  himself,  why  should  he  inherit  the  power  of 
his  father?"  by  a  simple:  "Because  God  so  wills  it."  This 
is  the  rock  upon  which  younjr  dynasties  will  strike  and 
go  down.  The  sons  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  can  not 
see  God  in  the  fire  of  a  fusillade  as  Moses  saw  Him  in  the 
burning  bu&,h;  neither  can  they  accept  a  street-barricade 
skirmishes  a  manifestation  of  His  will. 

It  is  a  tedious  task  to  throw  a  halo  c  sacredness 
around  the  prosaic  proclamations  which  form  the  certifi- 
cate of  birth  of  a  dictatorship  and  if  the  inheritor  of  it  is 
not  strong  enough  to  uphold  it  by  force  of  arms  it  will 
not  help  him  much  to  draw  the  right  to  govern  from 
heaven.  The  catholic  church  has  strictly  forbidden  the 
canonization  of  any  person  until  at  least  four  generations 
have  passed  away  since  his  death.  The  believers  must 
be  allowed  time  to  forget  his  human  frailties;  for  even 
with  the  best  intentions,  we  find  it  hard  to  believe  that 
the  John  or  Harry,  who  sat  next  to  us  at  school  has  got 
angel  wings  now,  and  is  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
soloists  of  the  celestial  choir.  The  church  was  even  wiser 
on  this  point  than  those  monarchs  who  had  it  proclaimed 
that  they  were  demi-gods,  before  their  contemporaries  had 


74  THE  LIB  OP  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

time  tr  forget  their  unpaid  bills  and  their  boots  run  down 
at  the  heel.  The  fact  that  the  Bonapartes  were  not 
satisfied  with  being  the  absolute  rulers  of  France,  but  in- 
sisted upon  a  grand,  religious  coronation  ceremony  before 
tjie  altar  of  Notre  Dame,  was  their  great  political  blunder. 
The  16.  Brumaire  and  the  2d  of  December  made  the 
religious  coronation  superfluous.  The  dove  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  ought  not  to  have  been  associated  with  the  imper- 
ial eagle. 

If  it  is  possible  for  a  dictator  to  dispense  with  Relig- 
ion, this  is  far  from  being  the  case  with  a  legitimate 
monarchy.  Religion  is  its  natural  and  indispensable 
foundation.  In  the  majority  of  cases,  the  monarch  is  en- 
dowed with  rather  less  than  more  than  the  average  of 
human,  natural  gifts.  Very  rarely  do  we  find  a  prince 
who  is  what  would  be  called  in  every-day  life  a  capable 
man,  and  only  once  in  centuries  does  a  dynasty  produce  a 
man  of  commanding  talents  or  of  genius.  Among  the 
reigning  princes  of  civilized  countries  there  are  some  who 
lay  claim  to  being  great  generals,  others  to  being  authors, 
painters,  musicians,  scientists  or  legal  authorities.  They 
take  great  pains  to  master  the  special  branches  of  learn- 
ing or  art,  to  which  they  are  most  attached,  and  their  pro- 
ductions in  this  line  can  be  looked  upon  as  tests  of  their 
ability.  But  what  is  the  result?  If  we  examine  these 
productions,  not  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  court  hanger- 
on,  but  as  an  impartial  critic,  we  are  obliged  to  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  unsupported  by  the  prestige  of  royalty, 
they  would  never  have  attained  to  even  a  moderate  rank 
in  the  departments  they  have  chosen.  This  prince  who 
pretends  to  be  such  a  fine  soldier,  would  never  have  re- 
ceived promotion  for  his  military  talents;  this  one  who  is 
coquetting  with  jurisprudence,  would  not  have  been  able' 
to  win  many  suits;  this  other,  the  would-be  astronomer, 


GENERAL  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  MONARCHS.  /5 

would  never  have  been  appointed  to  even  the  most  insig- 
nificant professorship,  the  would-be  dramatist  would 
never  have  seen  one  of  his  plays  produced,  nor  would  the 
painter  have  sold  any  of  his  paintings.  If  their  names 
had  been  Mayer  or  Durand  or  Smith,  they  would  have 
been  distanced  by  a  large  majority  of  their  competi- 
tors. It  is  a  matter  of  doubt  whether  any  one  of  them,  as 
a  private  citizen,  would  have  been  capable  of  supporting 
himself  and  founding  and  maintaining  a  family.  We 
must  even  make  some  concessions  to  imagine  them  with 
their  actual  endowments,  but  of  course,  different  training, 
as  capable  of  making  good  tradesmen,  grocers,  petty 
government  officials  or  non-commissioned  officers.  Soim 
of  them  at  least,  are  gifted  with  some  social  and  personal 
attractions.  They  are  handsome  men.  They  have  grace 
in  conversation.  They  could  turn  the  heads  of  wealthy 
heiresses,  and  make  brilliant  marriages,  which  also  re- 
quires a  certain  talent.  But  many  of  them  are  without 
even  these  qualities,  which,  if  somewhat  unimportant,  are 
yet  agreeable.  They  are  far  from  handsome,  are  weakly 
and  predisposed  to  disease  and  too  unintelligent  to  keep 
even  the  flattest  society  conversation  afloat  for  even  a  short 
time,  and  too  desperately  commonplace  to  ever  awaken 
the  love  of  a  true  woman  for  their  own  selves  alone. 

Each  one  of  these  princes  in  his  own  country  holds 
the  same  exalted  position  among  his  contemporaries: 
Frederick  the  Great,  the  same  as  Ferdinand  VII  of 
Spain,  Joseph  II,  as  Ferdinand  of  Naples,  called  Re 
Bomba,  Leopold  I,  of  Belgium,  the  same  as  Louis  XV  of 
France,  or  George  IV  of  England.  They  are  all  equally 
sacred,  equally  privileged  and  equally  infallible.  Their 
names  shine  with  the  same  lustre  upon  the  decrees  of  State; 
'.heir  commands  are  equally  powerful  and  receive  the 
same  obedience.  Every  one  bows  in  reverence  before 


76  /HE  LIB  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

them,  gives  them  the  same  title  of  Majesty,  and  calls  them 
without  distinction,  gracious,  illustrious  and  exalted. 
Human  reason  and  intelligence  revolt  at  such  a  spectacle. 
They  exclaim:  "You  cowardly,  incapable  creature,  how 
do  you  come  to  be  at  the  head  of  a  great  army?  You 
ignorant  blockhead,  who  are  unable  to  spoil  your  own 
mother-tongue  correctly,  why  are  you  the  high  and  mighty 
protector  of  the  academies  and  universities?  You  crimi- 
nal, why  have  you  the  right  to  award  sentence  of  life  or 
death  upon  those  accused  of  crime?  You  fickle  glutton, 
why  are  you  the  rewarder  of  virtue  and  merit?  You 
weakling,  why  are  the  destinies  of  a  nation  in  your  hands? 
Why?  Why? 

As  there  can  be  no  rational  answer  to  this  question, 
there  is  nothing  left  for  the  monarchy  to  reply  but:  "Why? 
Because  God  has  so  ordained  it!"  This  stereotyped  reply 
is  used  to  repel  any  indiscreet  inquisitiveness  or  incon- 
venient criticism.  The  majesty  of  God  heralds  everywhere 
the  arrival  of  his  own  majesty.  Whenever  the  monarchy 
wishes  to  assert  its  privileges  it  points  to  the  dnine 
source  from  whence  thoy  issued;  "by  the  grace  of  God," 
we  read  on  the  coins,  "by  the  grace  of  God"  in  laws, 
decrees  and  announcements.  "The  grace  of  God"  is  a, 
kind  of  reference  given  by  the  monarchy  when  ques- 
tioned as  to  its  credit.  In  order  to  have  this  reference 
satisfactory,  the  one  to  whom  it  is  given  must  believe  in 
God;  consequently  the  monarchy  has  no  more  important 
and  pressing  interest  than  to  preserve  in  the  people,  by 
,all  possible  means  of  strategy  and  force,  an  unswerving 
belief  in  God.  Confirmed  monarchists  are  completely 
right  in  bitterly  opposing  any  change  in  Religion,  or  its 
separation  from  the  State.  They  are  consistent  when 
thoy  preach:  "the  people  must  have  a  religion!"  when 
they  oppose  the  foundation  of  non-sectarian  schools,  and 


INCONGRUITY  OF  A  LIMITED  MONARCHY.  7? 

still  more  consistent  when  they  declare  that  the  divorce  of 
Church  and  State  would  be  equivalent  to  removing  the 
pillars  that  support  the  entire  structure  of  State.  Their 
demand  that  the  State  must  be  Christian,  is  a  necessary 
result  of  their  point  of  view.  They  are  not  quite  sincere 
however,  when  they  ^d:  "—  for  without  Religion  there 
is  no  morality,  and  the  State  when  it  ceases  to  be  Chris- 
tian, will  become  a  field  of  evil  passions,  vices  and  crimes." 
This  addition  should  be:  "  —  for  Religion  is  the  only 
foundation  of  an  hereditary  monarchy;  a  declaration  of  in- 
dependence in  regard  to  Religion,  would  lead  at  once  to 
the  sovereignty  of  the  strongest  or  most  capable  person 
or  persons,  that  is,  to  a  dictatorship  or  to  a  republic."  It 
is  only  another  proof  oi'  the  falseness  of  our  age  that  even 
the  most  confirmed  royalists  have  not  sufficient  courage  to 
acknowledge  the  true  reason  why  they  want  to  drive  the 
people  back  into  the  fold  of  the  church.  They  ought  to 
say  boldly:  "we  need  Religion  as  a  shield  for  the  mon- 
archy." That  would  be  honest  and  courageous.  It  is  a 
piece  of  cowardice  in  them  to  assert  that  they  support 
Religion  in  the  name  of  law,  orde. '  morality  and  the  wish 
of  the  people. 

Our  century  has  produced  nothing  more  repugnant 
to  common  sense  than  the  liberal,  constitutional  mon- 
archy. It  is  an  attempt  to  unite  two  separate  political 
for-ns,  two  opposed  views  of  the  world,  which  are 
completely  incompatible.  It  is  fortunate  that  society  is 
not  governed  by  logic,  but  by  indolence  and  passive  en- 
durance of  that  which  is,  or,  to  be  more  exact,  that  logio 
only  awakes  at  long  intervals,  otherwise  this  form  of 
government,  so  contrary  to  reason,  could  not  have  existed 
an  hour.  How  comes  it  that  a  monarchy  founded  by  God 
and  perpetuated  by  Him,  is  content  to  share  its  privileges 
with  common  mortals?  The  monarch  allows  his  preroga- 


78  THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

tives  to  be  limited  by  the  representatives  of  the  people, 
ordinary  men,  and  yet  these  prerogatives  are  the  direct 
gift  of  God!  Does  he  thus  acknowledge  that  ordinary 
men  have  a  right  to  interfere  with  God's  will  as  manifested 
in  him?  Is  such  a  thing  possible?  Is  it  not  an  insult  to 
God,  a  crime?  And  can  a  God-fearing  monarch  decree 
that  a  crime  of  blasphemy,  such  as  this  amounts  to,  is  to 
become  one  of  the  laws  of  the  re«.lm?  This  is  iu°!  way 
such  a  constitutional  monarchy  appears  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  monarchy  "by  the  grace  of  God."  Viewed 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  sovereign  people,  the  consti- 
tutional monarchy  appears  fully  as  unreasonable.  Con- 
stitutionalism is  founded  upon  the  theory  that  the  people 
has  the  right  to  decide  its  own  destiny.  From  whence 
did  it  obtain  this  right?  From  Nature  herself.  It  is  one  form 
of  man's  vital  energy.  The  people  has  the  right  to  govern 
itself,  because  it  has  the  strength  to  do  so,  just  as  an  in- 
dividual has  the  right  to  live,  because  and  as  long  as  he 
has  the  strength  to  do  so.  But  if  this  idea  is  correct  how 
came  man  then  to  yield  to  a  monarch  who  had  inherited 
his  authority,  whose  single  will  has  as  much  power  as  the 
will  of  the  entire  people,  who  even  has  the  right  to  oppose 
the  will  of  the  people,  as  the  people  have  the  right  to 
oppose  his  will?  If  the  people  should  rise  in  their  sover- 
eignty and  depose  the  king,  or  do  away  with  the  institu- 
tion of  monarchy  altogether,  would  the  king  submit?  If 
the  king  should  rise  in  his  sovereignty  and  abolish  the 
Parliament  altogether,  would  the  people  submit?  If 
not,  what  does  the  sovereignty  of  either  amount  to?  Two 
sovereignties  in  one  state  are  as  impossible  as  two  Gods 
in  nature,  that  is,  two  Gods  with  the  attributes  which 
Christians  ascribe  to  their  single  God.  The  prerogatives 
of  the  people  must  appear  to  the  king  "by  the  grace  of 
God,"  as  an  infringement  upon  the  omnipotence  of  God, 


TO  BE  CONSISTENT  A  MONARCH V  MUST  BE  ABSOLUTE.     79 

and  the  monarchy  "by  the  grace  of  God,"  must  appear  to 
the  enlightened  people  as  a  denial  of  their  manifest, 
national  power.  A  constitutional  monarchy  can  only  be 
accepted  by  sacrificing  one's  reasoning  faculties.  It  is, 
compared  to  an  absolute  monarchy,  what  the  protestantis 
to  the  catholic  church.  Catholicism  is  consistent;  protes- 
tantism is  arbitrary.  The  former  gives  its  superiors  the 
right  to  decide  upon  the  articles  of  faith,  and  allows  no 
criticism  of  any  of  its  arrangements.  The  latter  allows 
criticism  of  its  doctrines,  by  the  medium  of  the  Bible,  but 
forbids  any  criticism  of  the  Bible  itself.  The  mind  is 
allowed  free  liberty  of  thought  as  far  as  Revelations. 
The  line  is  drawn  at  Revelations,  where  it  must  stop. 
Why?  There  is  no  reason.  Because  it  is  so,  and  not 
otherwise.  It  is  free  thought  with  a  limited  circulation; 
it  is  free  criticism,  with  a  thumbscrew,  which  allows  it  to 
go  only  to  a  certain  point.  In  the  same  way  a  consti- 
tutional monarchy  lays  down  certain  premises,  but  forbids 
any  one  to  draw  the  conclusions  from  them.  It  recog- 
nizes the  fundamental  principle  of  the  nation's  right  to 
self-government,  but  at  the  same  time  it  denies  it  by  as- 
serting the  king's  right  to  govern,  to  be  higher  and  more 
sacred.  It  permits  logic  to  follow  in  its  train,  but  not 
until  its  teeth  have  been  pulled  out  and  its  limbs  amputated. 
I  consequently  sing  the  praises  of  the  absolute  mon- 
archy, surrounded  by  the  mediaeval  institutions  of  slate 
and  society.  It  satisfies  logic,  and  pleases  the  senses 
that  appreciate  symmetry  and  harmony.  We  are  only 
obliged  to  close  our  ears  to  the  voice  of  reason  for  one 
moment,  to  accept  but  one  arbitrary  premise  without  criti- 
cism, that  is,  that  the  monarch  owes  his  privileges  to  the 
special  grace  of  God.  This  statement  once  accepted,  all 
the  remaining  details  of  an  absolute  monarchy  follow  in  a 
symmetrical  and  logical  sequence. 


80  THE  LIB  OP  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

There  is  then  nothing  to  prevent  our  acceptance  of 
its  fundamental  principle,  that  the  king  can  do  no  wrong, 
even  if  he  murders,  steals  or  commits  perjury.  It  follows 
as  a  logical  consequence  that  the  I  ing  can  do  vith  his 
country,  his  people  and  every  individual  subject,  just  ex- 
actly as  he  pleases,  without  any  human  being  having  the 
right  to  interfere.  It  also  follows  that  his  person  is  sac- 
red, a  fragment  of  the  divine  Providence  in  material  form. 
The  authorized  agent  of  God  is  entitled  to  a  position  and 
power  far  beyond  that  enjoyed  by  mere  mortals.  Thus 
the  imposing  edifice  of  an  absolute  monarchy  is  complete 
in  all  its  details;  its  symmetry  is  not  impaired  by  inhar- 
monious additions  built  on  here  and  there  like  incongru- 
ous excrescences,  such  as  disfigure  a  constitutional  mon- 
archy. It  is  a  beautiful  production  of  the  human  imagin- 
ation, on  whose  noble  outlines  the  eye  dwells  with  satis- 
faction and  pleasure.  The  subject,  born  to  obey,  lives 
and  labors  contentedly  with  the  constant  regularity  (  f  a 
machine;  if  he  is  in  comfortable  circumstances,  he  enjoys 
them  in  peace;  if  he  is  hungry,  he  consoles  himself  with 
the  reflection  that  everything  that  is,  mustberigh:;  he 
need  never  have  any  feeling  of  care  or  responsibility,  for 
the  king  thinks  for  him,  and  regulates  his  present  and  his 
future  life  as  is  best  for  him.  And  if  at  any  time  a  tor- 
menting doubt  arises  in  his  mind,  whether  every  thing  is 
arranged  for  the  best,  in  this  best  of  all  possible  worlds., 
the  church  interposes  and  satisfies  him  with  the  assertion 
that  the  apparently  inconsistent  state  of  affairs  is  due 
directly  to  God's  decree,  who  of  course,  knows  what  is 
best  for  him,  and  that  he  has  only  his  own  short -sighted- 
ness  and  limitations  to  blame  for  not  seeing  a  :id  appre- 
ciating the  supreme  excellence  of  all  the  existing  con- 
ditions of  life.  Monarchy  and  Religion  keep  side  by  side 
like  sworn  comrades,  and  fight  faithfully  for  their  mutu'4 


MODERN  EUROPEAN  REPUBLICS  A  MASQUERADE.    81 

interests.     The  king  sends  the  people  to  church  and  the 
minister  bids  them  kneel  before  the  palace. 

The  king  chants:  "There  is  a  God,  and  I  keep  prisons 
and  hangmen  to  take  care  of  those  who  do  not  believe  in 
Him."  The  priest  chants  the  response:  "The  king  was 
set  upon  the  throne  by  God  Himself,  and  those  who  do 
not  believe  this  will  lose  their  chance  of  Heaven,  to  say 
nothing  of  punishment  on  earth."  The  king  maintains 
that  what  the  priest  says  is  true,  and  the  priest  denies 
any  usurpation  on  the  part  of  the  king.  Of  course  it  must 
be  truth,  what  two  such  important  witnesses  are  constantly 
repeating  and  the  people  accept  it  with  respect,  all  the 
more  profound  because  one  sits  on  a  throne  in  purple  and 
ermine,  with  a  crown  upon  his  head,  and  the  other  wears 
gold-embroidered  raiment  and  a  cross  set  with  jewels 
upon  his  breast.  A  good  judge  would  not  accept  the  tes- 
timony of  two  mutually  interested  confederates,  but  the 
people  have  swallowed  and  believed  it  for  thousands  of 
years. 


II. 

I  am  not  criticising  the  monarchical  institution  in  the 
interests  of  a  republic.  I  am  by  no  means  as  enthusiastic 
as  those  Liberalists  who  are  carried  away  by  the  mere 
name  of  a  republic,  without  taking  into  account  the  true 
significance  of  the  term.  A  republic  is  the  principal  ideal 
of  many  of  the  so-called  Liberalists,  to  me  it  seems  very 
undesirable.  A  republic,  if  it  is  to  be  a  progress  and 
a  truth,  must  be  founded  upon  a  number  of  social 
political  and  other  institutions,  entirely  different  from 
those  existing  at  present.  A.S  long  as  Europe  continues 
to  live  in  its  present  forms  of  civilization,  a  republic  is 
a  contradiction  and  an  unworthy  play  upon  words.  A 


82  THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

simple  political  revolution,  which  would  turn  any  one 
of  the  existing  monarchies  of  Europe  into  a  republic, 
would  be  merely  imitating  the  acts  of  the  apostles  to  the 
heathen,  during  the  early  part  of  the  Middle  Ages,  who 
converted  the  pagans  from  their  false  forms  of  worship, 
by  simply  giving  their  gods,  festivals  and  ceremonies. 
Christian  names.  The  entire  effect  of  such  a  revolution 
would  be  limited  to  pasting  upon  the  shop- worn,  unsalable 
goods,  a  lot  of  new  labels,  which  would  deceive  the  people 
into  thinking  a  new  stock  of  goods  had  been  procured. 
A  republic  is  the  last  link  of  a  long  chain  of  development. 
It  is  the  form  of  government  in  which  the  ideal  of  self- 
government  finds  realization  —  the  supreme  power  re- 
siding ultimately  in  the  whole  people  and  directly  exer- 
cised by  them.  This  form  of  government,  if  it  is  organi- 
cally genuine,  and  not  merely  an  external,  pasted  on  or 
painted  resemblance  to  a  republic,  is  inherently  incom- 
patible with  hereditary  privileges  and  distinctions,  with 
the  enormous  influence  wielded  by  accumulations  of 
capital  and  monopolies,  with  the  power  of  an  army  of 
office  holders  and  with  any  restrictions  to  the  free  liberty 
of  thought,  speech  and  action  of  the  grand  masses  of  the 
people.  But  to  leave  the  organization  of  the  State  as  it  is, 
and  merely  to  change  the  name  of  the  government  from  a 
monarchy  to  a  republic,  is  like  the  well-known  trick  of 
the  publishers  who  manage  to  smuggle  forbidden  works 
into  another  country,  by  substituting  for  the  title-page 
another,  taken  from  come  innocent  fairy-tale  or  prayer- 
book.  What  was  the  Italian  republic  of  1848,  or  the 
Spanish  republic  of  1868,  and  what  is  the  French  re- 
public of  1870,  but  monarchies  with  their  thrones  standing 
vacant  for  a  while,  monarchies  parading  under  the  mask  of 
republicanism.  They  remind  us  of  a  carnival  party  of  mem- 
bers of  the  nobility,  masquerading  as  a  set  of  gypsies  or  as 


THE  EXPERIMENT  OP  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.    83 

a  peasant  wedding-party.  Their  clothes  and  appointments, 
their  actions  and  speech  are  those  of  the  class  they  are 
trying  to  represent,  but  through  it  all  they  remain  their 
aristocratic  selves,  and  deceive  none  of  the  spectators 
into  a  belief  in  the  reality  of  their  pretty  comedy.  But 
strange  to  say,  the  same  people  believe  in  the  reality  of 
what  they  see  when  the  monarchy  puts  on  the  costume  of 
republicanism  and  goes  through  the  figures  of  democratic 
dances  with  a  good  grace;  they  accept  it  as  a  genuine 
republic  and  take  delight  in  it  accordingly. 

Only  one  revolution  grasped  the  idea  that  it  was  not 
sufficient  to  oust  the  king  from  the  State,  and  to  change 
its  name,  in  order  to  make  a  republic  of  it.  That  was  the 
great  French  Revolution.  It  annihilated  with  the  king  all 
the  component  parts  of  the  ancient  monarchy,  as,  when  any 
one  dies  of  the  plague,  his  corpse  is  not  only  hurried 
away  from  the  abode  of  the  living,  but  his  clothing  and 
effects  are  burned.  The  French  Revolution  dug  up  the 
monarchy,  with  every  one  of  its  roots,  and  then  ploughed 
up  the  soil  on  which  it  had  grown.  It  demolished  the 
institution  of  rank,  and  destroyed,  as  far  as  possible,  the 
causes  to  which  the  aristocrats  owed  their  privileges;  it 
leveled  their  castles  to  the  ground,  confiscated  their  pro- 
perty, and  even  abolished  the  expressions  Sir  and  Mr. 
from  conversation,  claiming  that  they  were  relics  of  feudal 
times,  when  everyone  was  either  master  or  dependent.  It 
did  still  more.  It  tried  to  recreate  the  entire  intellectual 
world  of  the  people.  It  wanted  to  substitute  an  entirely 
new  mental  horizon  for  the  old,  and  prevent  the  ancient 
ideas  which  it  had  driven  out  by  the  gate  of  government 
decrees,  from  slipping  in  again  by  the  window  of  an  indo- 
lent and  passive  habit  of  thought.  Consequently  it  created 
a  new  religion,  invented  a  new  calendar  in  which  every- 
thing, the  beginning  of  the  year,  the  manner  of  reckoning 


84  THB  LIB   OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

time  and  the  names  of  the  days  and  the  months,  differed 
completely  from  the  old  methods  of  computing  time,  it 
set  apart  new  days  for  holidays,  arranged  a  new  style  of 
dress,  in  short,  it  built  up  an  entirely  new  world,  in  which 
there  was  no  room  for  even  remembrance  of  the  former 
historical  evolution — and  yet,  what  did  it  all  amount  to  in 
the  end?  Clothing  and  speech  could  be  altered,  but  the 
brain  could  not  be  kneaded  over  again.  The  Jews  born 
in  Egypt  were  not  fitted  to  colonize  Canaan.  The  inbred 
habits  of  centuries  had  more  control  over  the  French, 
than  the  laws,  although  they  were  sustained  by  the  guillo- 
tine, When  Mme.  Dubarry  passed  in  frontof  citizen  Sanson 
on  the  bloody  platform  she  said:  "Excuse  me,  Mr.  Execu- 
tioner." After  the  close  of  the  Reign  of  Terror,  the  men  who 
had  amassed  millions  by  plunder  and  theft,  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  confiscation  of  the  emigres'  property,  and  of  the 
other  opportunities  which  came  in  their  way,  these  men 
acquired  an  influence,  and  were  paid  an  outward  respect, 
which  only  required  the  titles  of  nobility  that  Napoleon 
soon  gave  them,  to  be  in  all  points  an  exact  imitation  of 
the  ancient  aristocracy,  and  hardly  had  the  throes  of  the 
earthquake  of  the  revolution  subsided,  than  the  structure 
of  society  rose  up  again  like  Aladdin's  palace,  with  a  few 
new  beams  and  foundation  stones,  but  in  its  general  out- 
line and  architectural  plan,  a  duplicate  of  the  old,  and  as 
mediseval  as  before.  Nothing  is  accomplished  by  disturb- 
ing part  of  the  ancient  arrangement  of  things  and  leaving 
the  remainder  intact.  The  execution  of  the  inoffensive 
king,  Louis  XVI,  was  an  objectless  crime,  if  the  French 
people  intended  to  retain  their  former  conceptions  of  the 
universe,  with  faith  in  a  Supreme  Being  and  an  all-ruling 
Providence,  reverence  for  the  Bible  and  a  ceremonial 
worship.  An  exclusively  political  revolution,  changing 
merely  the  form  of  the  government  from  monarchical  to 


INEFFICACY  OF  PARTIAL  REVOLUTIONS.       85 

republican,  and  leaving  undisturbed  the  existing  condi- 
tions of  society,  philosophy  and  economy,  of  which  the 
monarchy  is  the  logical  sequence,  has  neither  sense  nor 
foundation.  It  is  a  violent,  exclusively  external  disturbance 
such  as  would  follow  the  decrees  of  an  insane  tyrant  like 
Ivan  the  Terrible,  if  we  could  imagine  such  a  being  upon 
any  throne  at  the  present  day.  The  logic  of  facts  is 
against  it  from  the  start,  and  allows  it  only  a  brief  period 
of  duration.  The  phenomenon  so  often  noticed  in  a 
cripple,  is  repeated  in  the  organism  of  the  people.  As  a 
man  whose  leg  has  been  amputated  suffers  pain  in  the  mis- 
sing limb,  a  nation,  after  the  amputation  of  the  monarchy, 
and  the  substitution  of  a  republican  wooden  leg,  feels  the 
twitches  and  agony  of  the  missing  monarchical  form  of 
government  It  resembles  even  a  lower  form  of  ani- 
mal life,  some  of  those  rudimentary  organisms  whose  am- 
putated organs  grow  out  again;  there  is  an  impelling 
force  within  them,  that  makes  such  organs  indispensable 
to  their  existence,  and  reproduces  the  missing  part  in  time. 
Consequently  I  take  no  part  in  the  either  false  or  mis- 
taken worship  of  a  republic  as  condncted  by  some  Libe- 
ralists,  who  bow  the  knee  and  sing  hosannahs  to  the  empty 
title  of  the  republic.  This  religion  whose  god  is  merely 
a  name,  does  not  count  me  among  its  followers.  In  order 
to  have  the  republic  the  necessary  outward  form  of  the  in- 
ternal organization  of  the  State,  the  people  who  wish  to 
be  crystallized  into  this  form,  must  comprehend  the  uni- 
verse from  the  standpoint  of  natural  science,  and  have 
swept  out  all  the  mediaeval  rubbish  of  transcendentalism 
and  the  hereditary  differences  of  social  station  and  pro- 
perty holding.  A  republic  with  religions  recognized  by  the 
State,  with  transcendental  formulas  for  oaths,  with  laws 
which  punish  the  expression  of  contempt  for  God,  with 
hereditary  privileges  of  rank,  and  with  the  preponderating 


86  THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

influence  of  inherited  possessions — such  a  republic  is  no 
progress  for  humanity,  and  is  superior  in  no  respect  to  a 
monarchical  form  of  government.  In  reality  it  is  inferior 
to  it,  it  fails  to  satisfy  the  logical  mind  and  esthetic  taste 
of  the  observer  like  the  imposing,  self-centered  and 
grandly  symmetrical  structure  of  an  absolute  monarchy. 
It  is  evident  from  the  foregoing  paragraphs  that  I 
understand  and  admit  the  historical  and  logical  grounds 
upon  which  the  monarchical  form  of  government  is  based. 
Indeed,  a  people  who  believe  that  the  universe  is  governed 
by  a  personal  God,  that  the  Bible  is  the  authentic  reve- 
lation of  His  will  and  that  the  clergy  are  men  appointed 
by  Him  to  make  His  meaning  clear,  are  inevitably  led  to 
believe  in  a  monarchy;  for  the  king,  answerable  to  no 
one  but  himself  for  his  actions,  above  the  jurisdiction  of 
the  legal  authorities,  guiding  the  destinies  of  the  nation 
and  suffering  no  interference,  is  a  faithful  representation 
of  God,  of  His  position  in  the  universe,  and  of  the  way  in 
which  He  governs.  The  Bible  acknowledges  the  mon- 
archy as  an  institution  created  by  God,  and  the  church 
maintains  that  the  supreme  power  of  the  king  and  the 
absolute  obedience  due  him  by  all  his  subjects,  are  God- 
given  rights,  which  God  will  sustain.  And  a  people  who 
see  nothing  incongruous  in  the  fact  that  a  man  can  be 
born  to  wealth  and  rank,  and  in  this  way  bring  into  the 
world  with  him  a  clear  title  to  honors,  influence  and 
luxury,  as  a  part  of  his  personality  like  his  hair  or  his  skin, 
such  a  people  shows  itself  logical  and  consistent  when  it 
admits  the  fact  that  a  child  may  be  born  possessing  in- 
herently the  right  to  rule  the  whole  land;  wherever  this 
wonderful  right  may  be  situated,  in  the  stomach  or  in  the 
head,  it  is  born  with  it,  and  no  one  questions  its  existence 
or  authority.  This  fact  is  no  more  unreasonable  nor  more 
difficult  to  conceive,  than  that  several  hundred  children 


COMPBOMISE  IMPOSSIBLE.  87 

should  come  into  the  world  with  some  inborn  organic 
rights  to  take  precedence  in  rank  and  wealth  over  the 
millions  around  them.  As  an  abstract  conception  the 
monarchical  form  of  government  can  be  easily  evolved 
from  the  theological  conceptions  of  the  universe,  and  be 
defended  by  them  with  certainty  of  success  in  argument. 
In  the  man  who  accepts  them  with  sincere  belief,  his  re- 
verence for  the  monarchy  is  no  lie.  But  to  those  who 
look  upon  the  world  from  the  heights  of  natural  science, 
it  appears  to  be  a  lie  and  a  fraud.  Even  to  many 
who  believe  still  in  its  divine  origin,  its  present  forms 
and  practices  seem  to  be  inconsistent,  and  more  or 
less  of  a  lie.  For  this  is  the  tragic  side  of  our  con- 
temporaneous civilization,  that  the  ancient  institu- 
tions have  no  longer  the  courage  and  self-confidence 
to  maintain  their  positions  before  mankind,  in  the  stiff 
and  unyielding  forms  in  which  alone  they  are  true  to 
logic  and  history,  repeating  the  Jesuits'  motto:  "As  we 
are  or  not  at  all."  They  attempt  an  impossible  com- 
promise between  their  premises  and  the  convictions  of 
modern  times;  they  make  concessions  to  the  latter,  and 
allow  themselves  to  be  penetrated  by  intellectual  ele- 
ments, foreign  to  their  constitution,  and  sure  to  disinte- 
grate it.  The  new  ideas  to  which  they  are  trying  to  con- 
form themselves  are  in  direct  opposition  to  every  one  of 
their  fundamental  principles,  so  that  they  resemble  a  book 
containing  on  the  same  page  some  ancient  fable  with 
foot-notes  criticising,  ridiculing  and  abusing  it  in  every 
possible  way.  In  this  shape  these  institutions,  denying 
and  parodying  their  true  character,  seem  objects  of  ridi- 
cule and  scorn  to  cultivated  minds,  and  even  to  the  uncul- 
tivated, sources  of  annoyance  and  painful  perplexity. 

The    monarchical    form  of  government  grew  from 
several  different  historical  roots.     It  is  probable  that  the 


88  THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND   ARISTOCEACY. 

men  of  the  earliest  prehistoric  ages  were  social  beings 
and  lived  in  tribes,  as  monkeys  and  numerous  other  gre- 
garious animals  do  to  this  day.  Each  band  had  its  leader, 
who  guided  and  defended  it,  and  without  doubt  was  the 
strongest  individual  of  the  tribe.  In  the  early  dawn  of 
civilization  whose  reflection  lests  upon  the  most  ancient 
portions  of  the  Bible,  the  Vedas,  and  the  sacred  books  of 
the  Chinese,  the  family  was  the  foundation  of  society,  and 
the  patriarch  the  natural  ruler,  judge  and  adviser  of  hk 
family  and  descendants.  As  men  increased  in  numbex 
the  families  grew  until  they  became  tribes.  The  father 
of  the  family  was  succeeded  by  the  chief  who  ruled  the. 
tribe;  whose  authority  was  founded  upon  the  fiction  that 
all  the  members  of  the  tribe  were  of  his  blood — a  fiction 
which  is  even  at  the  present  day,  the  foundation  of  the 
clan  attachments  and  customs  of  the  Scotch — and  partly 
upon  the  more  tangible  and  reliable  grounds,  upon  which 
herds  of  cattle  select  their  leaders,  that  is  upon  his  super- 
iority, which  might  be  due  to  either  greater  physical  force 
or  energy,  or  to  the  possession  of  greater  wealth  in  flocks, 
pastures,  implements  or  servants.  In  this  phase  the  dif- 
ference in  rank  between  ruler  and  ruled  is  comparatively 
slight,  and  the  sources  of  pre-eminence  are  apparent  to 
everyone.  He  is  obeyed  by  his  son  from  motives  of  affec- 
tion and  respect,  by  the  weak,,  because  he  is  strong  and 
inspires  fear,  and  by  the  poor  from  hope  of  gain,  because 
he  is  rich.  The  right  to  inherit  this  pre-eminence  was  hardly 
recognizea  at  this  period.  .  The  actual  possession  of  the 
means  of  power,  sufficed  theoretically  and  practically  to 
show  his  right  to  it.  No  supernatural  element  had  en- 
tered into  these  simple  relations  to  complicate  them;  he 
ruled  because  fte  had  the  power,  and  the  tribe  obeyed  be- 
cause they  chose  or  were  obliged  to.  As  civilization 
developed  however,  the  leader  found  it  necessary  to 


HISTOBICAL  BOOTS  OF  THE  MONARCHY.  89 

strengthen  his  legitimate  sources  of  superiority  by  adding 
to  them  the  awe  of  the  supernatural.  His  surpassing 
energy,  wealth  or  bodily  strength  did  not  seem  to  him 
sufficient  at  this  stage,  to  ensure  to  him  the  continued 
possession  of  his  exalted  position  against  the  covetousness 
and  ambition  of  his  rivals,  consequently  he  made  the  gods 
his  mysterious  and  therefore  doubly  to  be  feared,  confed- 
erates. He  assumed  the  position  of  chief-priest  of  the 
tribe's  religion,  called  the  invisible  spirits  into  his  service 
and  cultivated  the  growth  of  superstition  until  it  became 
one  of  the  strongest  supports  of  his  power.  This  was 
the  condition  of  things  among  all  the  peoples  of  the 
globe,  at  the  moment  when  they  entered  upon  the  field 
of  history.  The  royal  family  claimed  to  be  descended  in 
a  direct  line  from  the  gods.  The  Pharaohs,  the  Incas, 
were  the  sons  of  the  sun.  The  Germanic  royal  leaders 
claimed  to  have  sprung  from  the  loins  of  Thor.  The 
Maharadschas  of  India,  traced  their  origin  to  Vishnu.  The 
people  considered  their  leader  a  sacred  being,  and  ascrib- 
ed supernatural  powers  to  him.  In  the  Orient  no  one 
could  look  upon  the  light  of  his  countenance  without 
being  stricken  with  blindness.  The  kings  of  England 
and  France  possessed  the  power  of  curing  scrofula,  St. 
Vitus'  dance  and  epilepsy,  by  merely  laying  their  hand 
upon  those  afflicted  with  the  disease. 

The  eternal  vengeance  of  the  gods  rested  on  those 
who  laid  violent  hands  upon  the  person  of  the  king,  in- 
cluding their  family  and  their  entire  tribe.  In  addition 
to  his  human  hirelings,  the  king  had  all  the  gods  and 
demi-gods  of  the  heavens  as  guardians  of  his  throne.  The 
difference  in  station  between  the  king  and  the  people  had 
already  become  immense.  He  was  no  longer  merely  the  first 
among  his  fellows,  the  patriarch  of  the  tribe,  but  a  being 
of  superior  mould,  supernatural  and  beyond  the  jurisdic- 


90  THE  LIB  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  AEISTOCEACT. 

tion  of  the  laws  and  customs  of  ordinary  life.  There  was 
now  no  merely  human  connection  between  the  king  and 
the  people;  he  was  unapproachable;  he  lived  on  earth  it 
is  true,  but  like  a  god  in  disguise,  having  nothing  in 
common  with  the  masses  around  him.  It  sometimes 
happened  that,  owing  to  some  inexplicable  decree  of 
Providence,  he  might  be  deposed  from  the  throne,  and 
some  lowly  born  usurper  wrest  the  crown  from  him  to 
place  it  upon  his  own  head.  But  even  when  forced  to 
abdicate,  the  legitimate  monarch  did  not  sink  to  the  level 
of  the  multitude;  and  even  adorned  with  the  crown,  the 
usurper  was  without  the  consecration  of  divinity.  Thj 
former  remained  always  a  dethroned  monarch,  the  latter 
a  man  of  the  people,  who  sooner  or  later  was  obliged  to 
subside  again  into  the  nameless  multitude  from  which  he 
sprang,  as  an  ice-crystal  dissolves  into  the  water  around 
it,  while  the  deposed  king  always  retained  his  distinctive 
individuality,  like  a  diamond,  no  matter  what  his  sur- 
roundings. 

What  a  curious  paradox  this  phase  of  the  develop- 
ment of  civilization  presents!  The  monarchical  form  of 
government,  which  has  been  able  to  hold  its  own  from 
the  earliest  prehistoric  ages  to  the  present  day,  has  long 
since  thrown  away  as  superfluous,  those  reasons  for  its  ex- 
istence which  could  be  accepted  by  the  intellect,  and  only 
retained  those  which  vanish  into  nothing  at  the  first  ray 
of  rational  criticism. 

The  monarchy  of  today  depends  for  its  authority  not 
upon  its  actual  power,  but  upon  its  divine  origin.  It 
commands  no  longer  by  the  sti-ength  of  its  army,  but  by 
the  "grace  of  God."  An  armj  that  is  ready  and  willing 
to  enforce  the  commands  of  the  king  is,  even  now,  a  most 
irresistible  argument.  But  the  monarch  scorns  to  make 
use  of  it  <"or  this  purpose.  The  assertion  that  the  king  re- 


DIVINE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  MOA'ABCHY.  9) 

ceived  the  title  to  his  high  estate  from  the  hand  of  God, 
is  believed  by  no  one  nowadays,  not  even  the  most  cred- 
ulous  old  woman,  to  be  more  than  a  legend.  But  the 
monarch  keeps  repeating  this  fairy-tale  with  energy  while 
the  parson  and  the  policeman  soe  to  it  that  the  people 
pay  attention  and  believe  or  at  least  appear  to. 

In  ancient  times  and  during  the  Middle  Ages,  even 
up  to  a  late  period,  as  there  was  then  no  science  of  his- 
tory, and  an  analysis  of  origins  and  development  was  en- 
tirely unknown,  the  halo  of  divinity  surrounding  the  king 
was  a  material  reality  to  the  eyes  of  the  people,  during  all 
those  years  of  dawning  intelligence.  The  memory  of  the 
nation  did  not  extend  more  than  one  or  two  generations 
back.  The  darkness  of  the  past  was  impenetrable,  and 
it  settled  down  gradually  upon  the  origins  of  everything. 
Who  could  remember  the  beginnings  of  a  dynasty?  It 
was  not  difficult  for  any  one  to  credit  the  legends  sung  by 
the  bards,  who  traced  the  descent  of  the  monarch  to  di- 
vinities, whose  rank  depended  directly  upon  the  rewards 
paid  for  these  improvised  genealogies.  But  in  our  age 
these  ballads  and  traditions  have  lost  their  reliability  be- 
neath the  broad  glare  of  critical  history.  We  are  all 
familiar  with  the  origin  and  growth  of  the  European 
reigning  houses,  who  are  today  the  legitimate  representa- 
tives of  God's  will  on  earth,  according  to  their  own  state- 
ment. 

We  can  trace  the  Bourbon  dynasty,  the  most  ancient 
.  and  sacred  of  all  the  royal  houses  of  Europe,  to  Hugh 
Capet,  a  rebellious  landed  proprietor,  whom  some  believe 
to  be  its  founder,  or  to  Robert  le  Fort,  a  butcher's  assist- 
ant in  Paris,  if  we  believe  the  traditions  of  the  people. 
The  Habsburgs  of  Austria,  in  whose  veins  by  the  way, 
now  very  few  drops  of  the  blood  of  the  original  stock,  are 
the  descendants  of  a  poverty  stricken  Frankish  nobleman 


92  THE  LIB  OF  A  MONABCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

who  served  various  masters,  first  in  the  employ  of  a 
bishop,  then  of  a  city,  like  a  hired  prize-fighter  or  police- 
man. The  less  said  about  the  Romanoffs,  the  reigning 
family  in  Russia,  the  better.  Illegible  documents  can 
sometimes  be  deciphered  by  the  student  of  history,  but 
to  solve  the  problem  as  to  who  was  the  father  of  a  son  of 
the  Empress  Catherine  II,  is  beyond  the  power  of  any 
scientific  investigator.  The  Hohenzollerns  of  Germany 
have  at  least  a  clean  record  of  which  they  need  not  be 
ashamed.  They  are  descended  from  poor,  but  honest 
parents.  The  burggraves  of  Nuremberg  were  undoub- 
tedly good  and  reliable  officials  of  the  holy  Roman  Em- 
pire, and  their  appointment  to  be  Grand  Master  of  the 
German  Order  of  Knights,  then  Margraves  of  Branden- 
burg, from  there  to  electoral  Prince,  King  and  Emperor, 
was  an  honorable  and  straightforward  rising  career. 
The  date  of  every  upward  step  is  duly  recorded  in  history 
where  it  is  shown  to  be  the  work  of  men,  requiring  no 
celestial  interference.  In  the  reigning  dynasty  of  England 
we  see  an  astonishing  example  of  the  adventurous  travels 
which  the  royal  blood,  the  bearer  of  the  legitimate  sover- 
eignty can  undertake  through  a  dozen  or  more  different 
families,  without  losing  any  of  its  right  or  title  to  reign. 
The  curious  zigzag  line  which  forms  the  legitimate  stock 
from  the  Duke  of  Normandy  to  the  Duke  of  Saxe  Coburg 
Gotha,  seems  to  show  that  the  royal  blood,  like  a  good 
man,  is  always  conscious  of  the  straight  and  narrow  way, 
even  when  it  seems  to  deviate  most  from  it. 

Now  where  in  the  history  of  these  families  is  there 
room  for  the  intervention  of  God,  by  whose  grace  they 
claim  their  privileges?  At  what  point  in  their  career  did 
it  put  in  its  appearance?  At  Hastings,  when  William  the 
Conqueror  won  the  victory  over  the  Saxon  King  Harold? 
Or  when  Hugh  Capet  rose  in  revolt  against  his  lawful 


ORIGIN  OP  REIGNING  DYNASTIES.  93 

king  of  the  Carlovingian  dynasty,  as  Pepin  had  done 
against  his  Merovingian  monarch?  Or  when  Rudolph  of 
Hapsburg  conquered  his  rival  Ottocar  of  Bohemia?  And 
what  if  these  three  founders  of  legitimate  dynasties  had 
been  defeated?  If  William  had  been  driven  back  to  Nor- 
mandy, and  Hugh  strung  up  for  the  rebel  that  he  was, 
and  Rudolph  had  remained  dead  on  the  Marchfeld  plains, 
what  then?  What  would  have  become  then  of  the  "grace 
of  God"  ?  Would  not  those  exalted  personages,  the  found- 
ers of  the  three  mighty  dynasties,  would  not  they  in  that 
case  have  been  and  remained  merely  robbers  and  adven- 
turers? Or  was  it  success  that  made  them  divine?  Does 
the  "grace  of  God"  consist  then  only  in  the  fact  that  a 
daring  and  powerful  man  has  fought  his  way  by  force  to 
the  summit  of  his  ambition?  And  does  his  government  be- 
come legitimate  from  the  moment  he  assumes  the  power? 
That  seems  to  be  its  only  meaning.  The  people  seem 
to  think:  when  God  gives  office  to  a  man,  he  gives  him 
sense  to  go  with  it.  It  is  therefore  reasonable  to 
suppose  that  when  he  gives  a  crown  to  any  one,  he  pre- 
sents him  at  the  same  time  with  a  legitimate  right  to  it. 
But  according  to  this  view,  every  revolutionist  becomes 
a  legitimate  monarch,  if  his  attempt  is  successful.  Crom- 
well would  then  be  as  legitimate  a  sovereign  as  Charles  I. 
whom  he  beheaded,  Barras  and  Bonaparte  as  legitimate 
as  Louis  XVI.  who  met  with  the  same  fate,  Louis  Phi- 
lippe as  legitimate  as  Charles  X.,  and  Napoleon  III.  as 
legitimate  as  Louis  Phillippe.  The  royalists  would  then 
have  no  right  to  resist  nor  even  to  disapprove  when  any 
one  usurps  the  sovereignty  of  the  State;  they  would  then 
be  obliged  to  admit  that  Rienzi,  Masaniello,  Mazzini, 
Kossuth  and  Hecker  would  have  been  "sovereigns  br 
the  grace  of  God,"  if  their  attempts  had  been  crowned 
with  success.  More  than  this,  they  would  be  obliged 


94  THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

to  acknowledge  that  Lincoln,  the  rail-splitter,  John- 
son, the  tailor,  and  Grevy,  the  lawyer,  were  persons 
equally  as  divine  as  a  Hugh  Capet  or  a  Rudolph  of 
Hapsburg,  because  they  attained  to  success  and  possession 
of  power  fully  as  much  as  the  latter.  The  standpoint  of 
the  royalist  would  then  be  the  same  as  the  frogs  in  the 
fable,  who  accepted  with  the  same  blind  obedience  what- 
ever king  Jupiter  sent  them,  whether  it  was  a  log  of  wood 
or  a  stork.  If  success  is  the  proof  of  the  grace  of  God, 
then  it  is  the  only  source  of  legitimate  sovereignty,  and 
the  royalists  would  be  obliged  to  recognize  as  legitimate 
rulers,  any  and  every  foreign  conqueror,  president  of  a 
republic,  governor  or  potentate  of  any  kind  whose  am-: 
bitious  efforts  had  met  with  success. 

Or  has  this  spring  of  legitimate  sovereignty  run  dry 
in  late  years?  Can  it  be  that  in  ancient  times  alone,  the 
grace  of  God  was  manifested  on  earth  by  election  frauds, 
revolt,  perjury  and  the  power  of  might  over  right?  Can  it 
be  that  the  relations  between  heaven  and  the  royal  palace 
have  been  altered  recently?  If  this  is  the  case,  it  becomes 
a  matter  of  the  greatest  importance  to  determine  the  exact 
moment  when  this  change  took  place.  The  royalists  cer- 
tainly owe  us  the  information  of  the  year,  month  and  day 
on  which  it  occurred.  For,  in  quite  recent  times,  dynas- 
ties have  been  founded  in  Sweden  and  Norway,  in  Bel- 
gium, Servia,  Roumania,  Greece  and  Bulgaria.  These 
dynasties  claim  the  grace  of  God  as  the  source  of  their 
power;  their  subjects  acknowledge  their  right  to  sover- 
eignty; the  dynasties  founded  centuries  ago  accept  them 
as  their  equals;  we  are  thus  left  in  doubt  whether  these 
new  monarchs  obtained  their  privileges  really  by  the 
grace  of  God,  or  whether  they  are  not  bragging  of  titles 
and  taking  possession  of  privileges  upon  which  they  have 
no  just  claim.  •  If  the  Bernadottes,  Coburgs,  Obreno- 


THE  LEGITIMACY  OF  RECENTLY  CREATED  DYNASTIES.     95 

viches  etc.,  are  reigning  by  the  grace  of  God,  then  it  is 
proved  that  the  grace  of  God  is  as  prompt  now,  as  during 
the  Middle  Ages,  to  con5i*m  might  by  right,  and  the 
royalists  must  consent  to  recognize  as  a  legitimate  sover- 
eign any  socialistic  democrat  who  might  by  some  revolu- 
tion rise  to  the"  summit  of  power  m  the  German  Empire 
for  instance;  and  pay  the  same  respect  to  his  person  and 
his  authority,  as  they  now  pay  to  the  German  Kaiser. 
Or,  if  the  reverse  is  the  case,  if  the  grace  of  God  is  ex- 
hausted like  an  over- cropped  field,  then  those  monarchs 
of  recently  created  dynasties,  are  nothing  more  than 
swindlers  who,  by  false  pretences,  deceive  the  public  to 
their  own  advantage,  a  proceeding  fully  described  and 
provided  for  in  the  criminal  courts.  Then  they  are  im- 
pertinent in  requiring  allegiance  from  their  subjects,  and 
the  ancient  dynasties  become  accomplices  in  the  frau.i, 
-.vhen  they  recognize  and  accept  the  validity  of  their 
claim  and  admit  them  to  their  inner  circle. 

I  hear  a  protest  from  the  royalists  against  my  argu- 
ments. But  this  protest  does  not  take  the  shape  which  a 
logical  mind  would  expect:  viz.  that  these  new  dynasties 
\7ere  invited  by  the  people  to  assume  the  reins  of  govern- 
ment, who  thus  established  their  rights  and  prerogatives 
voluntarily.  The  royalists  will  not  acknowledge  that  the 
will  of  the  people  can  make  a  king,  for  in  that  case,  the 
reverse  would  also  be  possible,  that  it  could  unmake  a 
king  and  proclaim  a  republic  and  that  no  royalist  v  il 
admit.  No,  the  protest  I  hear  is  different;  it  says:  the 
men  who  have  founded  new  dynasties  in  recent  years  are 
off-shoots  of  ancient  royal  families  who  have  reigned  for 
centuries;  they  were  born  with  a  certain  latent,  hered: 
tary,  legitimate  royal  authority,  which  only  waited  for 
favorable  opportunity  to  blossom  into  a  visible  crown  and 
its  appendages.  This  can  not  be  asserted  with  truth 


96  THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

the  Bernadottes  and  Obrenoviclies,  hut  us  it  applies  to 
the  Belgian  Saxe-Coburg,  the  Grecian  Gliickshurg,  the 
Roumanian  Hohenzollern,  and  the  Bulgarian  Hesse,  I 
will  accept  it  and  let  it  pass.  Consequently,  it  is  under- 
stood and  admitted  that  a  legitimate  sovereignty  is  a 
natural,  hereditary  quality  in  certain  families;  when  f 
royal  prince  is  born  he  has  an  innate  authority  to  rulf 
not  over  any  special  people,  but  to  rule  in  general,  t 
vague  right  to  govern,  which  awaits  patiently  the  aj" 
pearance  of  the  object,  the  people  or  peoples  to  l,o 
governed.  A  Coburg,  a  Hohenzollern  brings  his  authority 
to  reign  by  the  grace  of  God,  into  the  world  with  him;  if 
the  Belgians  or  Roumanians  choose  him  for  their  king, 
they  are  merely  affording  him  an  opportunity  to  exercise 
his  pre-existing  legitimate  sovereignty.  He  is  given  the 
grace  of  God  as  a  medical  graduate  gets  his  diploma. 
With  his  diploma  in  hi.3  pocket  the  newly-fledged  doctor 
has  the  legal  right  to  carry  on  a  practice,  but  the  faculty 
do  not  undertake  the  task  of  supplying  him  with  patients. 
And  so  when  a  prince  is  born  to  some  legitimate  reigning 
family,  his  grace-of-Godness  gives  him  the  theoretical 
authority  to  govern,  but  does  not  supply  him  necessarily 
with  the  country  upon  which  he  can  exorcise  this  right. 
This  idea  is  imposing  and  satisfactory.  It  explains 
many  things  that  might  otherwise  have  perplexed  us.  We 
can  understand  now  how  a  legitimate  king  "by  the  grace 
of  God,"  can  deprive  another  legitimate  king  "by  the 
grace  .of  God,"  of  throne  and  country.  Enlightened  by 
this  idea  we  see  that  the  annexation  of  Hanover,  Hesse 
and  Nassau  by  Prussia,  and  of  Naples,  Tuscany,  Modeim 
and  Parma  by  Sardinia,  are  no  denials  of  the  principles 
upon  which  the  monarchies  of  the  Hohenzollern  and 
Savoy  families  are  based.  The  conqueror  does  not  de- 
prive the  conquered  monarch  of  his  right  to  govern,  his 


JLJCGITIMACY  AND  SOVEREIGNTY  NOT   SYNONYMOUS.       97 

diploma  of  legitimate  sovereignty,  he  only  takes  away 
the  country  upon  which  the  latter  has  been  exercising  his 
right.  He  remains  still  what  he  was  before,  a  king  '-by 
the  grace  of  God,"  only  he  is  now  a  king  out  of  a  situa- 
tion. If  he  can,  he  is  at  liberty  to  find  some  other  country 
where  he  can  settle  down  and  rule  with  undiminished 
legitimate  sovereignty  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  if  he  is 
successful  in  finding  such  a  place,  his  gratitude  to  the 
grace  of  God  ought  to  be  exceptionally  fervent  this  time. 
This  distinction  between  the  abstract  right  to  govern  and 
the  concrete  possession  of  a  country  to  govern,  is  a 
necessary  and  elementary  principle  of  the  morrarchical 
theory.  Without  this  principle,  the  kings  who  conquei 
and  annex  the  countries  of  other  monarchs,  would  be  the 
rankest  revolutionists;  without  it,  they  would  prove  be- 
yond the  question  of  a  doubt  that  their  grace-of-Godness 
is  a  fraud,  even  in  their  own  estimation,  and  they  would 
show  their  people  what  they  really  thought  of  a  legitimate 
monarch's  claims  to  hereditary  sovereignty,  and  how  to  go 
to  work  to  oust  such  an  one  from  his  position.  By  the 
light  shed  by  this  principle  of  the  separability  of  theore- 
tical sovereignty  from  actual  government,  we  are  able  to 
comprehend  without  difficulty  how  the  house  of  Bruns- 
wick could  be  ruling  England  with  full  and  legitimate 
authority,  while  the  no  less  legitimate  Stuarts  were  living 
in  exile  at  St.  Germain  and  Rome,  and  we  can  also  under- 
stand how  King  Humbert  can  succeed  Victor  Emmanuel 
in  Italy  "by  the  grace  of  God,"  while  Francis  II.  of  Naples, 
has  been  amusing  himself  in  Paris  as  best  he  can,  for 
almost  a  quarter  century,  "by  the  grace  of  God." 

But  enough  of  these  absurdities.  It  is  not  worth 
while  to  waste  any  time  discussing  seriously  the  divine 
origin  of  the  monarchy,  the  only  foundation  upon  which 
it  relies  at  present,  even  to  enter  upon  such  a  discussion 


98  THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

would  be  the  height  of  folly.  The  general  familiarity 
with  the  historical  facts  connected  with  the  beginnings  of 
the  different  dynasties,  some  of  whom  originated  hardly 
more  than  an  hour  ago,  under  the  eye  of  some  prosaic 
newspaper  reporter,  the  spectacle  occurring  more  and 
more  frequently,  of  the  deposition  of  legitimate  sover- 
eigns from  their  God-given  positions,  the  small  amount 
of  respect  shown  by  anointed  kings  to  the  supernatural 
rights  of  their  fellow-monarchs  —  these  facts  combine  to 
make  it  even  more  difficult  for  a  Christian  than  for  an 
atheist,  to  believe  that  the  grace  of  God  placed  the 
crowns  upon  the  heads  of  the  potentates  of  Christendom. 
The  grace  of  God  can  not  be  intermittent!  It  can  not 
sustain  a  king  one  day  and  abandon  him  the  next!  Such 
ideas  are  so  frivolous  that  the  cherished  convictions  of  a 
conscientious  believer  in  God  rise  in  rebellion  against 

O 

them.  The  entire  fiction  of  the  grace  of  God  bestowed 
upon  monarchs  seems  to  an  enlightened  man  like  one  of 
those  old  jokes  which  the  soothsayers  of  ancient  Rome 
used  to  repeat  to  each  other  with  a  solemn  face,  but  a 
wink  of  sly  understanding;  to  the  religious  man  it  is  a 
blasphemous  farce.  Where  the  former  would  have  the 
right  to  smile,  the  latter  would  grow  indignant. 

Let  me  now  drop  this  discussion  of  the  origin  and 
legitimate  authority  of  the  reigning  dynasties.  I  will 
continue,  accepting  as  truths  all  that  they  claim  to  be 
true,  and  assuming  the  solemn  aspect  of  a  conjurer  plying 
his  trade.  I  accept  therefore  as  demonstrated  to  be  the 
actual  fact,  that  the  king  is  born  with  the  authority  to 
command  me;  I,  the  subject,  am  born  with  the  duty  to 
obey;  God  has  arranged  it  thus,  and,  if  I  resist,  I  am 
blasphemously  attacking  His  designs  in  regard  to  the  uni- 
verse. Proceeding  from  this  point  I  find  myself  at  the 
very  next  step  in  the  midst  of  this  grand  lie  'jf  a  mon- 


THE  LIE  OF  A  LIMITED  MONARCHY.  99 

archical  form  of  government.  Russia  and  Turkey  are 
the  only  countries  in  Europe  with  absolute  monarchies, 
and  this,  as  I  have  mentioned  before,  is  the  only  logical 
form  of  the  monarchical  institution.  All  the  remaining 
European  countries,  except  such  as  are  republics,  have 
combined  with  the  monarchical  form  of  government  some 
constitutional  forms  which  are  diametrically  opposed  to  it 
and  in  perpetual  contradiction  with  it.  A  limited  mon- 
archy condemns  every  one  who  takes  part  in  the  farce,  to 
an  everlasting  hypocrisy,  and  causes  them  to  act  a  per- 
petual lie. 

In  those  countries  where  the  Parliament  is  a  truth, 
and  the  monarch  is  only  a  figure-head,  patiently  endured, 
as  in  England,  Belgium  and  Italy,  the  laws  and  decrees 
proclaim  lies,  when  they  are  issued  as  manifestations  of 
the  royal  will,  for  they  are  the  results  of  the. Parliament's 
will  and  take  effect  whether  the  king  accepts  them  or 
not.  The  Cabinet  ministers  lie  when  they  make  use  of 
the  customary  phrases;  "On  behalf  of  His  Majesty  we  re- 
commend," "By  His  Majesty's  command,"  "We  have  the 
honor  to  recommend  to  His  Majesty  so  and  so,"  for  they 
know,  and  every  one  knows,  that  the  king  has  not  re- 
commended or  commanded  any  thing  of  the  kind,  and 
that  the  "so  and  so"  recommended  to  him,  is  usually  an 
established  fact  before  they  lay  it  before  him,  entirely  in- 
dependent of  his  wish  or  decision.  Every  one  knows  too, 
that  the  monarch  is  obliged  in  reality  to  obey  without 
question  the  designs  and  decisions  of  the  Parliament  and 
Cabinet.  The  king  lies  in  every  word  of  his  address  to 
Parliament  when  it  assembles,  if  he  speaks  in  the  first 
person,  for  the  address  is  not  at  all  the  expression  of  his 
own  sentiments,  but  a  document  whose  composition  is 
due  entirely  to  others,  who  place  it,  when  finished,  in  his 
hands,  and  he  reads  it  as  a  phonograpl'  -c^ats  the  sen- 


100  THB  LIE  OP  A  MONARCHY  AXD  ARISTOCRACY. 

fences  that  have  been  spoken  into  the  receiver.  The  king 
lies  when  he  accepts  the  fiction  that  the  prime  minister  is 
the  man  of  his'choice,  in  whom  he  has  the  utmost  con- 
fidence, for  he  is  not  at  liberty  to  follow  the  dictates  of 
his  own  wishes,  but  must  select  and  conform  himself  to 
the  person  pointed  out  to  him  as  the  man  for  the  place  by 
the  majority  of  the  people's  representatives,  although  he 
may  detest  him  in  his  heart,  and  vastly  prefer  some  one 
else.  The  king  lies  again  when  he  signs  and  allows  to  go 
forth  as  the  expressions  of  his  will,  the  documents,  ap- 
pointments, etc.,  which  are  brought  to  him  by  the  Cabinet 
ministers  merely  for  his  signature,  and  which  are  some- 
times exactly  contrary  to  his  genuine  wishes  and  con- 
victions. 

This  is  all  reversed  in  the  countries  where  the  mon- 
arch retains  his  ancient  privileges  conferred  upon  him  by 
the  grace  of  God,  limited  only  in  name  by  a  Parliament 
which  is  merely  an  ornament  attached  to  the  ancient  ab- 
solute monarchy.  Germany  and  Austria  have  govern- 
ments of  this  kind,  and  in  these  countries  it  is  the  Par- 
liament, not  the  king,  which  lies  to  the  people.  The 
monarch  demands  recognition  as  the  visible  agent  and 
representative  of  the  divine  will,  and  lays  claim  to  in- 
fallibility of  course,  as  an  authorized  agent  of  the  infallible 
Supreme  Being;  at  the  same  time  he  concedes  in  theory 
some  authority  to  the  people  to  influence  his  decisions, 
thus  acknowledging  their  right  to  cri  ;icise,  chang  •  or  set 
aside  any  of  the  decrees  of  a  being  installed  and  inspired 
by  God.  By  doing  this  he  exposes  God  to  the  criticism 
of  mere  mortals,  and  thus  commits  a  crime  which  he 
would  punish  severely  in  one  of  his  subjects.  But  this  is 
the  case  after  all,  only  in  theory.  In  practice  the  will  of 
the  king  is  as  autocratic  and  powerful  as  ever  and  all 
thes«  Constitutional  additions  to  the  monarchy  are  mere 


KINGS  AND  THE  REPRESENTATIVES  OP  THE  PEOPLE.    101 

shams.  The  Government  lies  to  the  people  when  it  calls 
upon  them  to  select  their  representatives;  it  lies  to  the 
Parliament  when  it  lays  decrees  and  measures  before  it 
for  discussion  and  approval,  for  the  choice  of  the  people 
does  not  confer  upon  their  representatives  the  power  to 
enforce  the  will  of  the  people,  and  the  Parliament  has  no 
authority  or  influence  to  change  any  of  the  decisions  of 
the  Government. 

In  those  countries  where  the  will  of  the  people  is 
really  constitutionally  enforced,  the  position  of  the 
monarch  is  ignominious,  but  the  fiction  of  his  supreme 
authority  is  so  skillfully  concealed,  and  the  external 
honors  and  personal  advantages  and  pleasures  directly 
connected  with  the  maintenance  of  his  royal  position,  are 
#o  numerous  and  important,  that  we  can  understand  how 
men  of  self-esteem  and  little  sensitiveness,  can  condes- 
cend to  assume  the  role  of  a  puppet  whose  tongue  and 
limbs  are  set  in  motion  by  the  strings  pulled  by  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Cabinet.  But  in  those  other  countries  where 
the  Parliament  is  a  political  imposition,  the  part  of  the 
puppet  is  played  by  the  representatives  of  the  people,  and 
it  is  much  more  difficult  to  understand  how  men  worthy 
of  the  name,  can  find  in  the  petty  gratification  of  their 
vanity,  any  compensation  for  the  humiliations  which,  as 
members  of  the  legislature  or  Parliament  they  are  obliged 
to  endure.  We  can  understand  how  a  king  in  his  mag- 
nificent palace,  in  his  becoming  uniform,  in  receipt  of 
his  splendid  allowance,  only  hearing  the  most  exalted  ex- 
pressions of  respect,  "gracious  Majesty,"  "illustrious 
Highness"  and  so  on,  falling  like  snow-flakes  about  his 
ears,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  luxury  and  the  most  ex- 
aggerated outward  forms  of  homage,  we  can  understand 
how  he  can  forget  that  the  will  of  the  people  is  the  actual 
sovereign,  and  that  his  glittering  pageant  of  royalty  would 


102  THE  LIE  OP  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

vanish  entirely  if  he  were  to  attempt  to  play  the  role  in 
earnest.  But  how  can  the  members  of  Parliament  in  a 
sham  limited  monarchy  consent  to  make  themselves  ridi- 
culous by  speeches  without  effect,  gestures  without  pur- 
poses and  votes  without  results?  This  is  what  we  cannot 
understand.  Neither  the  undisguised  contempt  of  the 
prime  minister  nor  the  calumnies  of  the  press  subsidized 
by  the  Government,  deter  them  from  their  task.  Can  it 
be  that  they  are  sustained  by  a  secret  hope  that  some  day 
the  Parliament  may  become  in  reality  what  it  now  only 
appears  to  be?  But  such  a  hope  or  desire  is  impossible  to 
any  one  who  accepts  and  believes  the  fiction  of  the  divine 
origin  of  the  monarchy. 

To  any  one  who  despises  and  condemns  the  conven- 
tional lies  and  liars  of  our  modern  civilization,  there  can  be 
no  more  enjoyable  spectacle  than  that  afforded  by  the  so- 
called  Liberalist  party  in  the  German  Reichstag  between 
the  horns  of  that  dilemma  into  which  that  implacable 
logician,  Prince  Bismarck,  has  driven  them,  his  agents  in 
Parliament  and  the  journalists  in  his  pay  keeping  the 
horns  of  the  dilemma  constantly  before  them:  either  they 
are  rank  republicans  and  are  guilty  of  hypocrisy  and 
perjury  when  they  surpass  each  other  in  protestations  of 
loyalty,  or  else  they  are  sincere  in  their  loyalty  to  the 
Emperor,  and  if  so,  they  must  prove  it  by  obedience  to 
his  will.  This  "either  —  or  else"  are  like  hammer  and 
anvil  between  which  the  Liberalists  are  pounded  to  a 
jelly  that  not  even  a  dog  would  touch.  It  is  intensely 
amusing  to  see  how  these  weak-spirited  parties  in  the 
Reichstag  writhe  beneath  the  iron  grasp  of  that  pitiless 
logic.  How  they  long  to  escape,  and  yet  they  cannot! 
They  are  devoted  to  the  reigning  dynasty,  the  Emperor 
has  no  more  attached  subjects  than  they  are,  a  republic 
would  be  an  abomination  of  desolation  in  their  opinion, 


LOYALTY  AXD  CONSTITUTIONALISM  UNRECONCILABLE.   103 

but  at  the  same  time,  there  is  the  constitution,  which  His 
Majesty  has  condescended  to  confirm  by  oath,  and  with 
his  illustrious  permission  they  would  like  most  submis- 
sively, to  venture  to  make  use  of  the  privileges  so  grac- 
iously granted,  etc.  But  all  this  is  of  no  use.  The  hand  at 
their  throats  presses  them  closer  and  closer  against  the 
wall,  until  they  are  almost  suffocated,  while  a  voice  thun- 
ders: "Do  you  acknowledge  that  the  Emperor  is  commis- 
sioned by  the  Almighty  to  rule  over  you?  Yes?  Then 
how  do  you  dare  to  oppose  him  in  the  very  slightest  degree, 
how  do  you  dare  to  limit  the  imperial  privileges  and 
authority  given  by  God?  Do  you  doubt  the  fact  that  God 
endowed  him  with  those  privileges?  Then  you  are  Re- 
publicans! There  is  no  middle  course.  You  must  be 
Imperialists  or  Republicans." 

In  fact  there  is  no  middle  course.  An  absolute  mon- 
archy on  one  hand,  a  republic  on  the  other.  Any  com- 
promise is  a  fraud  and  a  lie,  and  a  government  which 
calls  attention  to  the  dilemma  deserves  the  gratitude  of 
all  enlightened  minds.  But  it  ventures  much  in  doing 
so.  It  lays  itself  open  to  the  attack  of  some  politician 
who  might  say:  "If  logic  is  trumps,  then  the  Government 
is  the  chief  liar  and  hypocrite.  If  the  will  of  the  Em- 
peror is  the  will  of  God,  how  dare  you  set  up  a  Parlia- 
ment that  even  in  appearance  seems  to  limit  the  imperial 
will  by  the  will  of  the  people!  Either  you  are  convinced 
that  the  people  are  entitled  to  a  voice  in  the  management 
of  the  country,  which  means  that  you  believe  in  a  repub 
he,  or  else  you  have  not  the  slightest  intention  of  admit- 
ting the  right  of  the  people  to  assist  in  the  government, 
you  intend  to  .do  as  you  please  in  everything,  and  the 
Reichstag  to  be  a  nonentity  in  every  way  as  regards  the 
management  of  affairs;  in  this  case  the  entire  parliamen- 
tary elections,  discussions,  votes,  etc.,  are  a  conscious  lie. 


104  THE  LIB  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

Either  Republicans  or  liars.  There  is  no  middle  course." 
This  is  the  gigantic  lie  of  a  limited  monarchy,  the 
fact  that  an  absolute  monarchy  can  only  be  changed  into 
a  limited,  constitutional  monarchy,  by  denying  the  divine 
origin  of  the  royal  authority,  thus  removing  its  entire 
foundation  and  leaving  it  suspended  in  the  air  like  Ma- 
homet's coffin.  During  the  Middle  Ages  the  authority 
of  the  king  was  often  intrenched  upon ;  the  nobles  rose  in 
insurrection  again  and  again,  striving  to  deprive  him  of 
some  of  his  power  and  prerogatives.  But  this  limitation 
of  the  royal  authority,  these  insurrections  against  the 
crown  were  not  founded  upon  any  principle  that  contra- 
dicted the  divine  origin  of  the  royal  privileges;  they  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  sovereignty  of  the  people.  The 
barons  acknowledged  voluntarily  that  the  king  owed  his 
authority  to  the  grace  of  God,  even  when  they  were  be- 
sieging him  in  his  castle,  but  they  maintained  at  the  same 
time,  that  the  grace  of  God  had  smiled  upon  them  also. 
This  was  no  denial  but  merely  an  ingenious  extension 
of  the  doctrine  of  the  supernatural  authority  of  those  in 
power.  As  the  monarch  asserted  that  he  was  king  by  the 
grace  of  God,  they  declared  that  they  were  barons  by  the 
grace  of  God.  It  was  like  the  monomaniac  who  imagined 
that  he  was  God.  When  another  lunatic  was  brought  to 
the  asylum,  whose  mania  took  the  same  form,  he  began  to 
ridicule  the  absurdity  of  the  latter's  pretensions.  "As  if 
that  creature  could  be  God!'  he  cried.  "And  why  not?" 
enquired  the  attendant  who  thought  his  first  patient  was 
almost  cured.  "Because  there  can  not  be  two  Gods,  of 
course,  and  as  I  am  God,  he  can  not  be."  Like  this  mo- 
nomaniac the  nobles  intrenched  upon  the  divine  prerog- 
atives of  the  crown,  not  in  the  name  of  reason,  but  owing 
to  the  vagaries  of  their  own  imagination.  This  made  the 
mediaeval  belief  in  the  divine  authority  of  the  king  and 


ENCROACHMENTS  OF  THE  NOBILITY.  105 

also  in  the  privileges  of  the  favored  classes,  not  only  pos- 
sible but  sincere,  while  a  belief  in  the  sovereignty  of  the 
people  and  also  in  the  sacred  origin  of  the  monarchy  di- 
rectly exclude  each  other. 

'n  addition  to  its  political  side,  the  lie  of  a  monarchy 
has  also  its  purely  human  side,  against  which  reason  and 
truth  revolt  as  much  as  against  the  former.  The  fiction 
of  the  augustness  and  supernatural  attributes  of  the  mon- 
arch humiliates  and  degrades  in  their  own  eyes  all  those 
who  come  into  personal  contact  with  him,  for  they  laugh 
at  it  in  their  hearts.  The  spectacle  of  the  king's  existence 
has  always  been  a  comedy  to  those  who  had  any  share  in 
it.  But  each  one  played  his  part  with  zeal  and  apparent 
conviction  of  its  reality,  he  never  stepped  out  of  his  rolo, 
and  while  on  the  stage,  he  took  every  possible  pains  to 
present  the  spectators,  from  whom  he  was  separated  by 
the  fiery  barrier  of  the  footlights,  with  a  poetic  delusion, 
which  he  never  allowed  to  fade,  and  only  the  few  con- 
fidants who  were  admitted  through  the  small  stage-en- 
trance, were  allowed  to  see  that  the  magnificent  palaces 
of  the  scenery  were  nothing  but  old  canvas,  that  the  jew- 
els and  the  gold  embroideries  on  the  royal  vestments  were 
only  paste  and  tinsel,  and  that  the  hero,  between  two 
grandly  heroic  declamations,  whispers  to  some  one  behind 
the  scenes  his  longing  for  a  glass  of  beer.  But  the  mo- 
dern actors  in  this  comedy  are  continually  forgetting  their 
roles,  and  ridiculing  them,  ridiculing  themselves  and  <*»6 
honorable  public. 

They  are  like  the  honest  amateurs  in  "Midsummer- 
Night's  Dream"  discussing  their  programme:  "Nay,  you 
must  name  his  name,  and  half  his  face  must  be  seen 
thivugh  the  lion's  neck;  and  he  himself  must  speak 
through,  saying  thus,  or  to  the  same  defect,  —  Ladies,  or 
fair  ladies,  I  would  wish  you,  or,  I  would  request  you,  or 


106  THE  LIE  OF  A    MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

1  would  entreat  you,  not  to  fear,  not  to  tremble:  my  life 
for  yours.  If  you  think  I  come  hither  as  a  lion,  it  were 
pity  of  my  life:  No,  I  am  no  such  thing;  I  am  a  man 
as  other  men  are:  and  there  indeed,  let  him  name  his 
name;  and  tell  them  plainly  he  is  Snug  the  joiner." 

The  royal  palace,  a  sacred  place  in  the  gDod  old  days 
of  the  monarchy,  into  which  the  common  mortal  only  en- 
tered with  awe  and  trembling,  now  stands  open  to  the 
reporter.  All  its  scandals,  all  its  criminalities  and  ab- 
surdities are  discussed  on  the  street.  The  most  insignifi- 
cant subject  is  acquainted  with  the  secret  vices  of  the 
king,  the  diseases  of  the  prince,  the  mistresses  of  this 
monarch,  the  flirtations  of  that  princess,  he  knows  that  his 
king  or  his  emperor  gambles  at  the  Exchange,  that  he  is 
an  idiot,  he  knows  all  about  the  king's  ignorance,  his 
badly  spelled  letters  are  ridiculed  and  his  foolish  sayings 
quoted — and  yet  the  subject  prostrates  himself  in  the  dust 
before  him,  never  mentions  him  publicly  except  in  terms 
of  the  most  extravagant  loyalty,  and  takes  especial  credit 
to  himself  if  he  can  lick  the  dust  from  the  august  feet 
more  zealously  than  his  neighbor.  What  a  spectacle  for 
an  unprejudiced  and  enlightened  looker-on!  What  a 
source  of  perpetual  disgust  at  the  nature  of  civilized  man 
with  its  inherited  instincts  of  a  gregarious  animal!  The 
famous  artist  who  has  just  completed  some  immortal  mas- 
ter-piece, longs  for  no  higher  crown  of  honor  than  a  visit 
from  the  king;  from  ihe  excitement  and  exaltation  of 
grand  conceptions  and  realization,  his  mind  sinks  to  the 
gratification  of  his  childish  vanity  by  the  hoped  for  visit 
from  his  sovereign.  He  is  perhaps  a  Beethoven,  a  Rem- 
brandt, a  Michael  Angelo;  he  will  be  known  and  admired 
when  nothing  remains  of  the  king  but  a  line  in  the  intermin- 
able list  of  kings'  names,  which  forms  the  superfluous 
appendix  to  the  history  of  the  world;  he  has  a  complete 


BYZANTINISM.  107 

consciousness  of  his  own  ability;  he  knows  that  the  king 
will  not  appreciate  his  music,  his  painting,  nor  his  statue, 
that  the  king's  eye  is  dull,  his  ear  deaf,  and  his  heart  dead 
to  all  beauty  and  harmony,  that  his  criticism  is  absurd, 
that  as  far  as  regards  esthetic  cultivation  he  is  about  on  a 
par  with  any  street-sweeper — and  yet  the  artist's  heart 
throbs  with  joy  when  he  sees  the  king's  absent,  leaden 
glance  turned  upon  his  work,  or  watches  him  as  he  listens 
sleepily  to  his  music.  The  scientist,  who  has  just  con- 
quered some  new  truth  for  mankind  by  his  intellectual 
Bffor  s  and  enlarged  the  mental  horizon  of  his  race,  is  so 
ambitious  as  to  set  his  heart  upon  decking  himself  in 
some  fool's  jacket,  of  official  style,  and  appearing  thus  be- 
fore the  king,  to  say  a  few  words  to  him  in  regard  to  his 
world-stirring  invention  or  discovery,  it  may  be  some- 
thing connected  with  the  unity  of  forces,  spectral  analysis 
or  the  telephone;  he  knows  that  the  king  is  incapable  of 
understanding  him,  that  his  Majesty  can  not  take  the 
slightest  interest  in  a  subject  so  entirely  beyond  his  com- 
prehension and  that  he  looks  down  upon  science  and 
everything  connected  with  it,  with  the  arrogance  of  a 
barbarian,  that  he  prefers  a  well-grown  corporal  in  his 
body-guard  to  all  the  scientists  in  creation;  he  knows 
also  that  he  has  only  a  few  minutes  in  which  he  can  hurry 
through  what  he  has  to  say,  embarrassed  and  stammering, 
while  the  king  is  thinking  of  other  things  and  allows  his 
face  to  reveal  clearly  what  a  bore  he  finds  such  duties, 
forced  upon  him  by  his  exalted  position,  and  yet  the 
scientist  crawls  to  the  palace,  weighed  to  the  ground 
with  these  humiliating  conditions,  and  takes  his  position 
contentedly  behind  some  diplomate  who 'wishes  to  an- 
nounce his  arrival  in  the  capital,  and  in  front  of  some 
petty  officer  who  comes  to  the  palace  to  express  his  grati- 
tude for  a  decoration.  How  many  poets  and  authors  beg 


108  THE  LIB  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

for  permission  to  dedicate  their  works  to  the  king,  know- 
ing perfectly  well  beforehand,  that  the  book  will  be 
placed  unread  in  the  back  of  some  library  shelf,  where 
genealogical  almanacs,  plates,  diagrams  and  works 
on  titles  and  heraldry  fill  up  the  front  row. 

The  hereditary  aristocracy  is  naturally  more  humble, 
more  reverent  to  the  king  —  if  such  a  thing  be  possible 
—  than  the  aristocracy  of  intellect.  This  hereditary  aris- 
tocracy which  surrounds  the  king  constantly,  which  sees 
the  night-cap  under  the  crown,  the  flannel  under  the 
purple  mantle,  which  is  the  author  of  all  the  stories  and 
caricatures  about  the  royal  family,  which  ridicules  his 
weaknesses,  and  acquaints  the  people  with  his  vices,  this 
aristocracy  has  notwithstanding  all  this,  no  higher  ambi- 
tion than  to  creep  or  flatter  its  way  into  the  favor  of  the 
king,  whether  he  is  a  Louis  XV.  or  a  Philip  IV.  It  con- 
descends to  any  dirty  trick  that  will  turn  the  royal  glance 
upon  it;  it  sells  to  him  its  wives  and  daughters;  it  accepts 
that  disgraceful  motto:  "the  blood  of  the  king  does  not 
tarnish."  An  aristocrat  who  is  too  proud  to  even  look  at 
or  address  his  own  servant  directly,  works  hard  for  the 
privilege  of  being  the  king's  servant,  and  on  certain  occa- 
sions to  wash  his  hands,  bring  his  food,  fill  his  glass,  run 
his  errands,  and  perform  all  the  menial  services  of  a 
waiter,  lackey  and  messenger-boy,  even  if  they  are  only 
symbolical.  It  is  a  well-known  anecdote,  but  not  there- 
fore necessarily  true,  that  Peter  the  Great  when  on  a  visit 
to  Denmark,  wishing  to  convince  the  king  of  the  implicit 
obedience  paid  him  by  his  subjects,  commanded  a  cossack 
in  his  suite  to  leap  from  the  top  of  a  high  tower.  The 
cossack  crossed  himself  and  sprang  into  the  air  without  a 
moment's  hesitation.  There  is  not  any  doubt  that  the 
majority  of  courtiers,  even  at  the  present  day,  would 
respond  in  the  same  way  to  a  similar  test.  Why?  From 


SUBSERVIENCE  TO  ROYALTY  A  CASE  OF  ATAVISM.      109 

heroism  ?  These  same  heroes  would  never  run  the  risk  oi 
catching  cold  by  attempting  to  save  a  drowning  man. 
From  the  hope  of  reward  hereafter?  This  hope  may  have 
made  the  sacrifice  of  his  life  easier  to  Peter  the  Great's 
cossack,  but  the  aristocrats  of  these  days  are  in  many 
cases  the  disciples  of  Voltaire,  and  think  far  less  of  the 
joys  of  paradise  than  of  those  lying  within  their  grasp 
which  this  earthly  vale  of  tears  has  to  offer  them.  I  can 
not  explain  this  wonderful  phenomenon  of  a  devotion  and 
veneration,  capable  even  of  self-destruction,  for  an  indi- 
vidual who  perhaps  is  not  distinguished  by  any  intellec- 
tual, physical  or  natural  attractions,  and  who  is  perhaps  of 
an  exceedingly  repugnant  and  despicable  temperament. 
Mlinchiiausen  relates  a  hunting  adventure:  he  went  hunt- 
ing one  day  with  a  female  hound,  big  with  young,  when 
he  started  up  a  hare,  also  big  with  young;  his  hound  pur- 
sued her  out  of  sight,  and  when  he  came  up  with  them  he 
saw  to  hip  astonishment,  seven  little  hares  running  along 
with  the  mother-hare,  and  seven  little  hounds  chafing 
them  with  the  mother-hound;  both  of  the  animals  had 
been  delivered  of  their  young  on  the  way,  And  each  one 
of  the  latter  had  at  once  taken  their  places  in  the  chase. 
Something  similar  seems  to  take  place  between  a  mon- 
arch and  his  subjects.  The  subject  is  from  the  moment 
of  his  birth,  devoted  to  the  king  for  life  and  death,  as  the 
little  hounds  from  the  moment  of  their  birth  began  to 
chase  the  hares.  I  mean  this  seriously,  although  I  ex- 
press it  rather  lightly.  Only  the  phenomenon  of  atavism 
can  account  for  this  loyalty  to  a  monarch  surpassing  the 
sentiment  of  self-respect,  dignity  as  a  man  and  even  the 
instinct  of  self-preservation.  It  is  evidently  a  return  t 
prehistoric  ideas,  an  indistinct  trace  of  habits  inherited 
without  interruption  for  thousands  of  generations,  when 
men  experience  or  pretend  to  experience,  an  affection  for 


110  THE  LIB  OP  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY 

an  individual  that  they  do  not  know  personally,  perhaps 
have  never  seen,  who  certainly  will  never  reciprocate 
their  sentiments,  and  when  they  let  this  affection  surpass 
that  which  they  feel  for  their  own  families  or  even  for 
their  own  selves 

It  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  deeply  rooted  charac- 
teristics of  man's  nature  to  prostrate  himself  in  the  dust 
before  any  one  whom  the  multitude  has  acknowledged 
and  set  up  as  pre-eminent.  I  say:  whom  the  multitude 
has  set  up  as  pre-eminent,  not:  who  is  by  nature  pre- 
eminent. Man  as  an  animal,  was  born  to  live  in  herds, 
and  has  all  the  instincts  of  a  gregarious  animal.  The 
principal  one  of  these  instincts  is  the  habit  of  subordina- 
tion to  a  leader.  But  he  only  is  leader  who  is  accepted 
and  endured  as  such  by  the  entire  herd.  Only  a  small 
group  of  enlightened  minds  are  able  to  judge  a  per- 
sonality by  its  inherent  qualities;  the  majority  of  mankind 
judges  it  by  the  effects  of  those  qualities  on  others.  A 
cultivated  intellect  examines  and  tests  the  individual,  un- 
influenced by  his  relations  with  other  men;  the  man  of 
the  masses  asks  only  for  the  position  and  situation  accor- 
ded him  by  the  world,  and  experiences  an  irresistible 
compulsion  to  accept  as  his  own  the  views  of  the  majority. 
This  explains  why  every  famous  man,  even  if  he  is  only 
well-known,  or  sometimes  merely  notorious,  meets  with 
an  attention  and  devotion  which  are  refused  to  the  man 
of  real  worth  who,  indifferent  to  the  world  and  its  popu- 
lari  y,  has  lived  in  contemplative  solitude.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  be  a  king,  to  be  surrounded  by  a  court. 
Notoriety  alone  is  sufficient.  Actors,  conjurors  and  circus 
clowns  have  their  courtiers.  There  are  people  who  force 
their  way  to  notorious  criminals  and  boast  of  their  inter- 
course with  them.  Acts  of  self-abasement  are  being 
daily  performed  before  Victor  Hugo,  which  surpass  any 


ANTHROPOLOGICAL  FOUNDATION  OF  SNOBBISHNESS.     Ill 

thing  of  the  kind  in  the  court  of  the  Czar  of  all  the 
Russias  or  of  a  Grand  Mogul.  His  admirers  are  filled 
with  ecstasy  at  every  word  he  speaks,  at  the  utterances  of 
an  intellect  enfeebled  by  age,  almost  approaching  im- 
becility. They  crowd  to  kiss  his  hand.  They  reverence 
and  admire  his  old  mistress  and  esteem  it  an  honor  to 
follow  her  funeral  to  the  grave.  They  extend  the  wor- 
ship of  the  ancient  poet  to  his  grandchildren,  of  whom  we 
know  nothing  except  that  they  are  exceptionally  spoiled 
and  affected  children,  victims  even  in  these  early  years  of 
a  mania  of  greatness.  What  is  it  which  causes  men  tc 
commit  such  follies?  What  was  it  that  surrounded  Beau 
Brummel  and  Cartouche  with  a  court  like  that  of  any 
great  artist  or  scientist?  The  answer  lies  close  at  hand 
and  has  been  often  given:  Vanity;  but  it  is  a  superficial 
answer.  Wherein  does  the  gratification  to  one's  vanity 
lie,  in  belonging  to  the  crowd  surrounding  some  famous 
personage?  What  pleasure  can  there  be  in  hustling 
around  in  the  throng  paying  court  to  some  well-known 
man?  It  lies  in  the  fact  that  by  so  doing  man  is  gratify- 
ing his  instinct  as  a  herding  animal,  the  instinct  of  sub- 
ordination to  a  leader.  Snobbishness  has  an  anthropo- 
logical foundation,  and  this  fact  Thackeray  f ergot  when 
he  entered  the  lists  to  do  battle  with  it,  inspired  by  such 
bitter  hatred.  But  loyalty,  in  the  sense  in  which  royalists 
understand  the  term,  is  the  highest  and  most  perfect 
manifestation  of  snobbishness. 

It  will  be  seen  that  I  am  trying  to  find  ameliorating 
circumstances  for  Byzantinism.  I  would  very  much 
like  to  convince  myself  of  the  genuineness  of  the  senti- 
ments towards  kings  and  princes,  which  so  many  people 
parade.  1  am  ready  to  admit  that  the  Russian  peasant  is  not 
playing  the  hypocrite  when  he  kisses  the  hem  of  the  Czar's 
garment,  and  that  the  German  soldier  is  not  lying  when 


112          THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

he  declares  that  to  die  for  his  Emperor  would  be  the  high- 
est happiness  that  could  befall  him.  But  anthropology 
and  atavism  and  heredity,  all  the  fine  words  which  I  have 
called  upon  to  aid  me  in  defending  the  loyalty  of  the 
ignorant  and  uncultivated,  all  these  leave  me  in 
the  lurch  when  I  come  to  the  Byzantinism  of  cultured 
and  enlightened  minds.  Their  Byzantinism  is  and  remains, 
a  conscious  lie.  It  has  no  root  in  the  character.  It  is  a 
farce  in  which  each  one  is  working  for  pay;  some  for 
offices  and  wealth;  others  for  titles  and  decorations,  a 
third  for  some  political  reason,  because  the  monarchy 
seems  to  him  necessary,  for  the  moment,  to  the  welfare  of 
the  people,  or  for  the  interests  of  his  caste, — all  are  work- 
ing for  an  immediate  or  indirect  personal  advantage.  And 
this  is  what  makes  the  lie  of  the  monarchy  so  much  more  re- 
pulsive than  the  lie  of  Religion.  The  enlightened  man  who 
bends  the  knee  in  church  and  murmurs  prayers,  does  it 
from  mental  indolence  or  indifference,  or  from  a  cowardly 
acquiescence  in  custom;  even  if  he  is  a  hypocrite,  and  is 
trying  to  win  the  favor  of  the  priests  and  their  powerful 
influence  by  his  counterfeit  piety,  he  only  humiliates  him- 
self before  a  symbol  and  does  not  kiss  the  hand  from 
which  he  expects  the  reward.  But  the  sycophantic 
courtier,  the  citizen  illuminating  and  decorating  his 
house  with  garlands  of  flowers,  the  poet  composing 
odes  in  honor  of  royal  marriages  and  the  births  of  princes, 
they  are  all  only  working  for  the  pay  which  they  will 
presently  receive,  and  are  in  no  respect  superior  to  the 
demi-mondaine,  intent  only  upon  coining  money  with  her 
smiles. 

Many  persons  who  consider  a  king  as  a  human  being 
like  all  the  rest,  only  more  insignificant  and  less  talented, 
who  laugh  at  the  preordained  divine  mission  of  the  reign- 
ing dynasties,  and  admit  that  they  are  acting  a  lie  whan 


HYPOCBISY  OF  THE  COURTIER.  113 

they  testify  to  their  submission,  reverence  and  love  of 
their  monarchs  and  the  royal  families,  are  constantly  try- 
ing to  excuse  their  falsehood  and  lack  of  fidelity  to  their 
convictions,  by  maintaining  that  the  accepted  fraud  of 
royalty  is  a  harmless  deception. 

The  monarchy,  at  least  in  honestly  constitutional 
countries,  is  merely  a  bit  of  theatre  scenery.  The  king  has 
really  less  authority  than  the  President  of  the  United 
States  of  North  America.  England,  Belgium  and  Italy 
are  in  reality  republics  with  kings  for  the  figure-heads, 
and  the  inherited  external  forms  of  submission  by  which 
the  crown  is  surrounded  are  mostly  matters  of  habit,  and 
prevent  in  no  way  the  free  action  of  the  will  of  the  people, 
and  of  the  will  of  the  people  alone.  This  is  a  grave  mis- 
take which  will  prove  fatal  in  many  cases  to  the  destinies 
of  nations. 

The  power  of  the  king  is  still  immense;  their  in- 
fluence even  in  such  countries  as  Belgium  and  Roumania, 
England  and  Norway,  is  all-powerful,  even  if  io  does  not 
affect  directly  the  form  of  government,  but  acts  with  and 
through  it.  We  have  the  moist  reliable  testimony  of  this 
fact.  The  right  honorable  Mr.  Gladstone,  who  is  certainly 
competent  authority,  expressed  his  opinion  most  signifi- 
cantly on  the  influence  of  kings  in  an  early  number  of  the 
Nineteenth  Century.  Certain  publications  of  recent  times 
throw  sufficient  light  upon  this  subject,  especially  Martin's 
Life  of  the.  Prince  Consort,  with  the  correspondence  be- 
tween Prince  Albert  and  Prince  Wilhelm  of  Prussia,  after- 
wards King  and  Emperor,  and  the  relations  between  Napol- 
eon III.  and  the  English  Court,  Baron  Stockmar's  Notesand 
Reminiscences,  and  many  reliable  portions  of  Schneider's 
and  Meding's  Memoirs.  We  learn  from  them  how  the 
web-work  of  intimate  relations  between  the  different 
sovereigns  is  spun  over  the  heads  of  peoples,  Parliaments 


114         THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCBACY. 

and  ministers;  how  the  kings  consult  with  and  advise 
each  other  direct;  how  they  pass  judgment  on  every 
political  occurrence  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  interests 
of  their  dynasties;  how  they  turn  a  solid  and  united  front 
to  the  movements  tending  to  arouse  the  people  to  a  recog- 
nition of  their  strength  and  rights,  and  how  they  allow 
themselves  to  be  influenced  by  petty  whims,  by  personal 
friendships  and  dislikes,  in  the  most  important  decisions, 
involving  the  destinies  of  millions.  Public  orators,  abound 
in  phrases,  the  representatives  of  the  people  declaim  in 
Parliament;  the  Cabinet  ministers  make  public  the  result 
of  their  discussions  with  solemn  gravity;  they  are  all  con- 
vinced that  they  alone  have  the  power  to  guide  the  des- 
tiny of  the  nation;  but  in  the  mean  while  the  king  is 
smiling  contemptuously  and  writing  confidential  notes  to 
his  royal  friends  across  the  border,  concluding  with  them 
informally,  all  sorts  of  alliances  and  exclusions,  wars  and 
treaties  of  peace,  conquests  and  renunciations,  limitations 
and  concessions  to  freedom,  and  when  the  plan  is  all  de- 
cided upon,  it  is  carried  out,  the  Parliaments  can  say 
what  they  please. 

They  experience  no  difficulty  in  finding  plenty  of 
tools  to  do  their  work  in  the  correct,  constitutional  way; 
a  hundred  where  they  need  but  one,  are  at  their  disposal, 
and  in  case  of  necessity  it  does  not  require  very  much  of 
an  effort  to  change  the  currents  of  public  opinion.  Thus 
it  happens  that  the  sovereigns  who  are  supposed  to  fill 
only  an  ornamental  position  in  the  state,  limited  by  the 
constitution  to  a  mere  existence  without  any  political  sig- 
nificance, are  the  ones  who  cast  the  deciding  votes  in 
matters  of  state,  at  the  present  time  as  well  as  during  the 
Middle  Ages,  at  the  present  time  even  more  than  ever 
before,  for  never  was  the  combination  between  the  mon- 
archs  of  Europe  as  firm  as  today,  never  before  did  they 


REAL  POWER  OP  ROYALTY.  H5 

form  such  a  solidarity,  and  never  before  were  their  natural 
supporters,  the  aristocracy  and  the  clergy,  so  devoted  to 
their  authority  as  today.  The  cowardliness  of  men  who 
accept  the  conventional  lie  of  a  monarchical  form  of 
government,  against  their  convictions,  reason  and  com- 
prehensi  ,n  of  the  universe,  is  revenged  upon  them,  or 
rather  v  pon  human  progress.  The  sly  pseudo  Liberalists 
who  th'.nk  they  are  deceiving  the  king  by  awarding  him  ex- 
ternal honors  and  privileges,  when  according  to  their 
opin'.on,  the  actual  power  does  hot  go  with  them,  are  in 
reality,  the  dupes  of  the  king  who  skillfully  adapts  him- 
self to  their  views,  but  manages  to  get  control  of  the  real 
authority,  so  that  the  sham  is  after  all  not  the  monarchy, 
but  the  legislative  representation  of  the  people. 


III. 

The  relation  between  the  monarchy  and  the  aris- 
tocracy is  similar  to  that  between  Religion  and  the  mon- 
archy. As  Religion  can  exist  without  a  monarchy,  but 
the  monarchy  not  without  Religion,  an  aristocracy  without 
a  monarchy  is  possible,  but  a  monarchy  without  an  aris- 
tocracy could  not  last  at  all.  There  are  some  kingdoms 
without  an  hereditary  nobility  —  such  as  Greece,  Rou- 
mania,  and  Servia  —  others,  like  Norway  and  Brazil,  have 
abolished  it.  But  these  are  artificial  formations,  without 
a  future.  Either  these  monarchical  states  will  depose  the 
royal  family  to  the  ranks  of  the  nobility  and  change  the 
form  of  the  government  to  a  republic,  or  else  the  next  or 
at  least  the  second  generation,  will  produce  an  hereditary 
aristocracy  which  may  not  have  any  legal  position  or 
titles,  but  will  have  privileges  all  the  more  substantial  on 
this  account.  An  hereditary  monarchy  has  a  natural  im- 
pulse to  surround  itself  with  hereditary  attachments.  We 


116         THE  LIB  OF  A  MONARCHY  AXD  ARISTOCRACY. 

know  that  many  kinds  of  insects  provide  for  their  young 
by  depositing  their  eggs  near  or  in  the  middle  of  the  sub- 
stance which  is  to  be  the  food  of  the  young  caterpillars, 
so  that  they  find  the  table  all  spread  for  them  when  they 
emerge  from  the  egg.  In  the  same  way  every  king  wants 
to  surround  hie  heir  even  in  the  cradle,  with  a  lovalty  and 
submission  which  he  could  not  obtain  without  help,  and 
these  sentiments  he  expects  to  find  in  the  gratitude  of  a 
certain  number  of  families  whom  he  or  his  predecessors, 
have  heaped  with  honors  and  wealth.  This  precautionary 
confidence  of  the  monarchs  is  often  deceived;  in  the 
moment  of  danger  to  their  nearest  personal  interests,  the 
living  generations  of  aristocrats  are  apt  to  forget  the  debt 
of  gratitude  bequeathed  to  them  by  their  ancestors  along 
with  their  possessions  and  privileges,  and  abandon  the 
prince  to  his  adverse  fate,  who  ought  to  find  his  safety  in 
the  dearly  bought  and  paid  for  fidelity  of  the  aristocracy. 
Tt  would  be  a  useless  task  to  recall  all  the  examples  of 
such  ingratitude  recorded  in  history;  it  will  be  sufficient 
to  mention  the  attitude  of  the  English  nobility  towards 
William  of  Orange  and  George  I.,  the  relations  between 
the  legitimate  aristocracy  of  France  and  the  two  Napo- 
leons and  Louis  Philippe,  and  between  the  Napoleonic 
nobility  and  the  reinstated  Bourbon  dynasty.  But  kings 
cling  nevertheless  to  this  untrustworthy  pledge  of  the  fu- 
ture, and  lull  themselves  into  a  deceptive  dream  of  security 
when  they  see  themselves  surrounded  by  a  numerous  set  of 
nobles,  as  the  soldier  on  the  field  of  battle  seeks  shelter 
behind  some  cover  which  he  knows  at  the  same  time, 
would  oppose  but  little  more  resistance  to  the  enemy's 
bullet  than  the  air  alone. 

A  strange  spectacle,  arousing  astonishment  and  in- 
dignation, incredulity  and  ridicule,  this  mediaeval  comedy 
in  the  very  midst  of  our  modern  civilization!  One 


NO  MONARCHY  POSSIBLE  WITHOUT  AN  ARISTOCRACY.    117 

of  human  beings  assumes  the  airs  of  ancient  Egyptian  or 
Indian  caste,  in  the  midst  of  our  Caucasian  humanity.  It 
lays  claim  to  titles  which  once  signified  certain  offices, 
but  today  have  no  sense  whatever.  It  paints,  engraves 
and  carves  upon  its  carriages,  residences  and  seals,  un- 
reasonable and  absurd  pictures,  representing  battle-shields, 
such  as  have  not  been  used  for  several  centuries,  whose 
obstinate  perpetuation  affects  us  like  the  behavior  of  a  man 
whoshould  insist  upon  carrying  a  flint  and  steel  around  with 
him  to  strike  a  light,  or  one  who  should  tattoo  his  face  after 
the  manner  of  the  ancient  Celts.  Why  should  we  not 
laugh  when  somebody  calls  himself  a  duke,  which  signi- 
fies a  leader,  a  commander  of  the  army,  when  he  is  some 
little  dude,  who  has  never  led  anything  but  a  German,  or 
when  another  boasts  of  his  noble  birth,  and  considers  him- 
self an  important  personage  in  the  nation,  when  at  the 
same  time  he  is  a  humpback,  with  scrofulous  tendencies 
perhaps,  and  intellectually  below  the  level  of  any  one  of 
his  own  servants?  Our  civilization  contains  hardly  any 
more  absurd  relic  of  ancient  days  than  an  aristocracy 
whose  only  claim  to  distinction  is  in  empty  titles  and 
coats  of  arms. 

I  am  far  from  asserting  that  equality  of  positions 
would  be  a  more  reasonable  formation  of  society.  Equal- 
ity is  a  chimera  of  book-worms  and  visionaries  who  have 
never  studied  nature  and  humanity  with  their  own  eyes. 
The  French  Revolution  thought  it  had  condensed  the 
thoughts  of  encyclopedists  when  it  announced  its  motto 
to  be:  "LibertS,  Egalite,  Fraternite"".  Liberty?  Correct. 
If  this  word  has  any  meaning  at  all,  it  can  only  be  that 
the  obstacles  have  been  removed  which  had  hindered  or 
entirely  prevented  the  free  play  of  the  natural  powers  of 
the  individual  and  of  society,  obstacles  usually  in  the 
form  of  laws  which  owed  their  existence  to  the  super- 


118          THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

stition  and  folly  of  short-sighted  men.  Fraternity?  Oh, 
this  is  a  sublime  word,  the  ideal  goal  of  human  progress, 
a  presage  of  the  condition  of  our  race  at  the  time  when  it 
attains  to  the  summit  of  its  fullest  development,  a  time 
still  very  remote.  But  equality?  That  is  a  mere  creature 
of  the  imagination  for  which  there  is  no  room  in  any  sen- 
sible discussion.  In  justice  to  the  period  preceding  the 
French  Revolution  it  must  be  said  that  it  never  discussed 
and  proclaimed  social  equality,  but  merely  personal  equal- 
ity before  the  laws.  But  the  authors  and  leaders  of  the 
great  Revolution  did  not  publish  this  distinction;  they 
sought  for  a  striking  and  an  appealing  word,  and  in  their 
famous  motto,  sacrified  accuracy  to  brevity.  Thus  "Ega- 
lite"",  without  any  modifying  term,  appeared  in  the  triad 
of  the  revolutionary  programme,  and  the  multitudes,  who 
are  apt  to  repeat  party  cries  without  reflection,  adopted 
the  term  as  meaning  equality  in  the  sense  in  which  it  is 
accepted  by  the  democrats  of  the  Parisian  beer  tunnels. 
Equality  even  before  the  laws,  is  possible  only  in  theory, 
in  reality  it  is  impracticable.  It  is  true  that  if  a  machine 
administered  the  laws  they  would  be  carried  out  with 
mechanical  exactness,  without  prejudice  or  partiality,  but 
when  a  living  human  being  undertakes  the  task,  inequality 
is  unavoidable;  the  most  conscientious  judge,  armed  at  all 
points  against  external  influence,  is  yet  unconsciously  to 
himself,  biased  by  the  personal  appearance,  the  voice, 
the  intelligence,  the  cultivation  and  the  social  position  ol 
the  parties  before  him,  and  the  point  of  the  law  wavers 
and  turns  from  favor  to  severity  in  his  hands,  as  the  mag- 
netic needle  is  turned  by  the  electric  current.  This  source 
of  error  in  the  enforcement  of  the  laws  can  be  reduced  to 
its  minimum,  but  never  entirely  done  away  with. 

Equality  before  the  laws  is  difficult,  but  social  equal- 
ity is  absolutely  inconceivable.   It  stands  in  opposition  to 


ABSOLUTE  EQUALITY  IMPOSSIBLE.  H9 

all  the  laws  of  life  and  development  that  govern  the  or- 
ganic world.  We,  who  stand  upon  the  firm  foundation  of 
the  scientific  view  of  the  world,  we  recognize  in  this  very 
inequality  between  living  beings  the  impulse  towards  all 
development  and  perfection.  The  struggle  for  existence, 
that  inexhaustible  source  of  the  beautiful  variety  and 
wealth  of  form  and  appearance  in  nature,  is  nothing  else 
than  a  perpetual  demonstration  of  inequality.  A  better 
equipped  being  makes  his  superiority  felt  by  his  fellows, 
he  deprives  them  of  part  of  their  share  of  the  repast  spread 
before  them  by  nature,  and  prevents  the  possibility  of  the 
full  display  of  their  individuality,  in  order  to  attain  more 
space  for  the  manifestation  of  his  own.  The  oppressed 
inferiors  revolt,  the  oppressor  overpowers  them.  In  this 
struggle  the  powers  of  the  weak  grow  stronger  and  the 
faculties  of  the  strong  attain  to  their  highest  possibilities. 
The  appearance  of  any  especially  endowed  individual 
in  the  species,  is,  in  this  way,  a  benefit  to  the  entire  race, 
advancing  it  one  or  more  steps.  The  most  imperfect  in- 
dividuals are  destroyed  in  this  struggle  for  the  first  place, 
and  vanish.  The  average  type  becomes  continually 
nobler  and  better.  The  generation  of  today,  taken  as  a 
whole,  stands  where  the  exceptionally  endowed  beings 
stood  in  the  last  generation,  and  the  generation  of  tomor- 
row will  aspire  to  the  rank  of  the  leaders  of  today.  It  is? 
an  endless  progression,  always  forward.  The  masses  are 
trying  to  raise  themselves  to  the  level  of  the  distinguished 
men  and  the  latter  are  pushing  forward  to  maintain  the  in- 
equality now  existing  between  them  and  the  masses,  and 
even  to  increase  it.  Continual  exertion  of  the  various 
faculties,  untiring  effort  on  both  sides,  and  the  result,  a 
constant  progress  towards  the  realization  of  the  ideal.  The 
superior  men  call  the  struggle  made  by  those  beneath 
them  to  attain  to  their  level,  envy ;  the  inferior  call  the  efforts 


12Q          THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

made  by  the  superior  to  maintain  their  supremacy,  pride. 
But  these  are  only  manifestations  of  that  natural  property 
of  matter,  inertia,  which  causes  it  to  consider  every  effort, 
even  if  it  be  necessary  and  salutary,  as  unpleasant  for  the 
moment,  and  the  apparent  discontent  with  the  compulsion 
to  effort,  can  never  be  accepted  as  a  proof  against  its  use- 
fulness. 

Inequality  is  therefore  a  law  of  nature,  and  upon  this 
fact  an  aristocracy  founds  its  rightfulness.  That  the  aris- 
tocratic position  should  be  inherited,  is  also  a  claim  which 
our  reason  can  not  dispute.  If  there  is  one  observation 
whose  truth  can  not  be  doubted,  it  is  that  the  qualities  of 
the  individual  are  inherited  by  the  offspring.  If  the 
father  was  fine- looking,  strong,  courageous,  healthy,  the 
probabilities  are  that  the  son  can  congratulate  himself 
upon  the  possession  of  the  same  qualities,  and  if  the  for- 
mer had  through  these  qualities  won  his  way  to  a  dis- 
tinguished station  in  society,  there  is  no  reason  why  the 
inheritors  of  his  blood  should  not  maintain  it.  It  might 
be  better  however,  for  them  and  society,  if  they  were 
obliged  to  fight  their  way  up  to  the  coveted  positions  and 
win  them  anew  for  the  family;  this  would  prevent  any 
deterioration  and  retrogression  in  them;  the  chances  are 
that  even  in  a  free-for-all  race,  the  sons  of  superior  men 
would  form  the  majority  of  the  victors. 

An  hereditary  aristocracy  is  not  only  natural,  it  has 
moreover  its  advantages  for  the  common  welfare.  In  a 
democracy  founded  upon  the  mistaken  equality  of  the 
French  Revolution  as  its  ideal,  only  men  of  a  ripe  age 
could  attain  to  the  positions  in  which  they  could  first  be- 
gin to  exercise  an  influence  upon  the  development  of  the 
people.  Only  in  cases  of  the  rarest  occurrence  would 
young  men  succeed  in  finding  opportunities  to  be  vic- 
torious over  their  rivals,  and  rise  to  the  positions  of  legis- 


ADVANTAGES  OF  AN  ABISTOCttACY  TO  THE  STATE.     121 

lator,  party-leader,  secretary  and  president.  Such  exam- 
ples as  the  generals  of  the  first  French  republic,  the 
Bonapartes,  Washingtons,  Gambettas,  prove  nothing 
against  my  assertion.  They  rose  to  the  summit  of  the 
nation  in  consequence  of  sudden  revolutions.  Their  un» 
expected  elevation  was  not  due  to  general  capability,  but 
in  the  first  place,  to  the  chance  that  they  happened  to  be 
close  at  hand  ready  to  fill  the  positions,  when  the  positions 
were  ready  to  be  filled,  and  in  the  second  place,  to  the 
forbearance  of  their  numerous  and  authorized  rivals  who 
would  not  stoop  to  use  force  to  get  the  power  into  their 
hands  at  such  moments  of  confusion.  Revolutions  can 
promote  young  men  to  the  first  places  it  is  true.  But  re- 
volutions are  exceptional  cases,  occurrences  which  will 
not  continue  repeating  themselves  for  ever.  They  are 
not  the  normal  evolution  of  a  democracy.  When  it  has 
finally  settled  down  into  established  forms,  and  is  living 
according  to  rule  under  its  natural  conditions,  then  it  has 
no  room  for  the  meteoric  career  of  a  Washington,  Bona- 
parte or  Gambetta.  But  it  is  of  the  greatest  importance 
for  the  progress  of  humanity,  to  have  young  men  take  now 
and  then  a  prominent  part  in  the  discussions  for  and 
against  matters  concerning  the  State.  Old  men  are  not 
accessible  to  new  ideas,  and  have  not  the  energy  and 
capability  necessary  tc  grasp  new  principles.  The  phys- 
iological law  according  to  which  nerve  sensations  have 
the  tendency  to  travel  along  the  most  accustomed  paths, 
and  only  enter  upon  new  ones  with  difficulty,  is  most  im- 
portant in  its  application  here.  It  reveals  to  us  the  fact 
that  an  old  man  has  become  an  automaton  whose  entire 
organic  functions  are  ruled  by  habit,  and  whose  thought 
and  sensations  are  hardly  more  than  reflex  activity,  in 
which  the  intervention  of  the  consciousness  is  hardly 
necessary.  How  can  we  expect  then  novel  forms  of  effort 


122  THE  LIE  OP  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

from  these  stiff,  old  organisms?  How  can  we  compel  their 
trains  of  thought  to  leave  the  smooth,  easy,  accustomed 
track  and  go  bumping  along  over  newly  broken  ground? 
Where  a  youthful  intellect  has  only  to  grasp  the  new  idea, 
the  old  intellect  has  first  to  do  the  same,  that  is,  compre- 
hend the  new  thought,  and  secondly  to  conquer  the  ten- 
dency in  his  mind  to  formulate  the  idea  in  question  iu 
his  old,  accustomed  way.  He  is  thus  required  to  make  a 
twofold  eifort,  and  his  powers  far  from  being  stronger 
than  those  of  the  young  man  are  considerably  weaker. 
This  is  the  physiological  explanation  of  the  so-called  ossi- 
fication of  old  people.  They  find  it  too  much  trouble  to 
escape  from  the  habits  into  which  they  have  fallen;  their 
central  nervous  system  also,  is  often  incapable  of  gener- 
ating impulses  of  sufficient  energy  to  conquer  the  resist- 
ance of  the  nerve  sensations  to  enter  upon  untried  paths. 
Consequently  a  community  governed  by  elderly  men  de- 
generates into  mere  routine,  and  has  the  inherent  ten- 
dency to  become  a  museum  of  ancient  traditions.  But 
new  ideas  meet  with  a  cordial  welcome  where  young  men 
are  at  the  helm,  making  and  administering  the  laws.  All 
innovations  are  quickly  accepted  and  the  established  cus- 
toms have  to  prove  at  all  times  their  title  to  superior  ex- 
cellence, or  be  swept  away,  for  there  is  no  body-guard  of 
habit  to  protect  them.  The  inexperience  and  rapidity  of 
decision  of  young  leaders  are  the  disadvantages  accom- 
panying their  youthful  energy,  but  they  can  never  do  very 
much  harm,  on  account  of  the  fact  that  the  machinery  of 
the  State  is  so  complicated  that  it  is  a  long  way  from  the 
mental  initiative  to  its  actual  realization,  and  the  number 
of  wheels  which  have  to  be  set  in  motion,  use  up  the 
energy  of  the  first  impulse,  so  that  the  final  result  is  only 
a  very  small  portion  of  the  original  force.  Only  by  means 
of  an  established,  hereditary  aristocracy  is  it  possible  in 


FUliniEK  ADVANTAGES  OF  AN  ARISTOCRACY.  123 

normal  times,  for  a  number  of  talented  men  to  attain  to 
positions  of  trust  and  responsibility  at  the  very  blossoming- 
time  of  their  life.  For  the  aristocrat  has  over  the  obscure 
mass  of  the  nameless  multitude,  the  advantage  of  noto- 
riety, which  he  finds  in  his  cradle  when  he  is  born,  while 
the  unknown  son  of  the  people  is  usually  obliged  to  de- 
vote the  best  years  of  his  life  to  the  task  of  winning  it  by 
a  grievous  waste  of  vital  energies  and  deterioration  of 
character.  In  the  natural  course  of  events  the  position 
won  by  the  plebeian  as  the  result  of  his  life  struggle,  is 
the  same  as  that  where  the  patrician  begins  his  career, 
and  consequently  the  latter  enters  upon  the  fulfillment  of 
its  duties  with  all  his  youth  and  energy  unimpaired,  while 
the  former  has  lost  all  his  in  the  effort  to  get  there. 

Still  another  advantage  to  the  commonwealth  is  de- 
nved  from  the  existence  of  an  hereditary  aristocracy. 
The  possession  of  an  illustrious  and  honored  name  is 
usually  a  guarantee  that  the  person  to  whom  it  belongs 
will  have  a  surer  and  more  correct  comprehension  of  duty 
and  a  higher  ideal  of  humanity,  than  an  individual  of  a 
more  obscure  origin.  Of  course  this  universal  rule  can 
not  be  applied  to  all  cases.  A  prince  or  duke  of  the  most 
ancient  pedigree  m  <y  be  a  scamp,  and  the  son  of  a  day- 
laborer,  or  even  some  foundling  picked  up  in  a  city  gut- 
ter, may  be  the  most  brilliant  example  of  dignity  of  char- 
acter and  self-abnegating  heroism  ever  seen.  But  the 
former  case  is  the  exception  and  of  the  latter  I  know 
nothing  as  long  as  it  is  not  proved.  Suppose  there  is  a 
position  vacant  that  will  require  in  its  incumbent  courage, 
reliability  and  fidelity  to  duty.  I,  with  my  fellow-citizens, 
am  called  upon  to  elect  him.  Several  candidates  present 
themselves,  but  I  know  none  personally;  one  is  a  des- 
cendant of  an  aristocratic  family,  the  other  bears  a  name 
which  I  hear  now  for  the  first  time.  If  1  in  such  a  case, 


124  THE  LIB  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND   ARISi'OCKACY. 

follow  the  dictates  of  a  superficial  democracy,  I  shall  cast 
my  vote  for  the  plebeian,  about  whom  1  know  nothing, 
simply  to  manifest  my  adherence  to  the  principle  of 
equality;  but  if  on  the  contrary,  the  interests  of  the  com- 
munity are  really  dear  to  me,  if  I  am  conscientiously 
anxious  to  increase  at  least  the  probability  that  the  pub- 
lic welfare  is  entrusted  to  clean  and  powerful  hands,  then 
I  shall  vote  for  the  aristocrat.  I  am  not  acquainted  with 
him,  it  is  true,  but  between  the  two  unknown  candidates) 
he  is  the  'one  who  has  the  strongest  reasons  for  being 
faithful  to  his  post;  the  chances  are  in  his  favor.  Why? 
Not  on  account  of  the  usual  stereotyped  reply:  because  he 
has  received  a  better  education,  and  the  principles  of 
chivalry  were  instilled  into  him  at  an  early  age.  This  is  a 
reply  that  leaves  us  too  often  in  the  lurch.  Aristocratic 
birth  is  no  guarantee  of  a  good  moral  training;  every  one 
knows  examples  of  princes  who  grew  up  amid  most  de- 
plorable surroundings  and  became  in  time  not  only  liars, 
cowards  and  cheats,  but  common  thieves — or  fine  thieves, 
if  it  makes  stealing  any  finer  to  steal  jewels  instead  of 
cotton  handkerchiefs.  No,  the  guarantee  of  a  higher 
moral  level  in  the  aristocrat  does  not  lie  in  his  training  or 
education,  but  in  his  pride  of  family,  we  might  call  it  an- 
cestral self-conceit. 

He  identifies  himself  and  his  fortunes  with  his  fam- 
ily to  an  extraordinary  degree,  and  merges  his  own  indi- 
viduality into  the  higher  individuality  of  his  house,  more 
than  is  possible  with  the  plebeian.  The  latter  is  himself, 
otherwise  nothing,  hence  an  entity;  the  former  is  the  rep- 
resentative of  an  entire  family.  He  knows  that  his 
actions  will  reflect  a  lustre  upon  all  the  bearers  of  his 
name,  as  their  actions  and  honors  are  reflected  upon  him. 
A  member  of  the  aristocracy  is  a  collective  individual, 
in  whom  the  ancestors,  contemporary  members  and  future 


FOUNDATION  OF  SENTIMENT:  "NOBLESSE  OBLIGE."    125 

descendants  of  the  family  are  united,  and  the  securities 
which  he  offers  are  theoretically,  and  until  proof  of  the 
contrary  is  given,  in  the  same  proportion  to  the  securities 
offered  by  the  nameless  candidate  as  the  strength  of  an 
union  of  men  is  to  the  strength  of  one.  Even  if  he  is 
personally  a  coward  and  a  man  of  low  tastes,  he  will 
feel  himself  spurred  on  to  heroic  efforts  on  certain 
occasions,  simply  because  he  bears  an  historic  name, 
and  says  to  himself:  "Even  if  I  fail  and  go  down, 
my  heroisfh  will  not  have  been  in  vain  —  the  honor 
of  it  will  be  credited  to  my  family,  to  the  men  of 
my  blood ;  I  will  thus  be  adding  to  the  lustre  of  my  name, 
and  increasing  the  positive  possessions  of  my  heirs."  The 
average  Smith  or  Jones  has  nothing  of  this  incentive  to 
heroism.  His  self-sacrifice  could  not  benefit  any  special 
persons,  and  the  welfare  of  the  people  is  a  thought  rather 
beyond  the  comprehension  and  self -application  of  a  com- 
mon mind  in  moments  of  danger.  It  is  true  that  the 
masses  also  obey  an  absolute  command.  History  presents 
us  with  abundant  testimony  of  this  fact.  On  the  field  of 
battle,  Smith  and  Jones  do  their  duty  as  gallantly  as  any 
Howard  or  Montmorency.  But  in  the  present  condition 
of  the  development  of  mankind,  it  seems  to  me  that  the 
abstract  generality  of  the  categorical  imperative  forms  a 
less  firm  a  priori  foundation  for  my  confidence  than  the 
palpable  interests  of  a  noble  family.  Especially  in  those 
cases  where  it  is  a  question  of  sacrificing  their  lives  for 
the  State.  That  powerful  longing  for  continued  individ- 
ual existence,  which  T  discussed  in  a  preceding  chapter, 
renders  t-he  sacrifice  of  life  far  more  easy  to  a  patrician 
than  it  can  possibly  be  to  a  plebeian.  The  former  is 
sure  of  immortality;  the  latter  has  usually  the  conscious- 
ness that  no  cock  will  crow  his  name,  his  heroism  to 
the  world,  after  he  is  gone.  The  hero  has  at  the  best, 


126  THE  LIB  OP  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY, 

only  a  moment  of  conscious  self-satisfaction  before  he 
is  thrown  into  the  ditch  with  the  masses;  the  man 
of  rank  during  that  moment  is  filled  with  enthusiasm  as 
he  dwells  upon  the  certainty  that  he  will  have  a  noble 
memorial  tablet  and  an  imposing  monument  in  the  con- 
secrated ground  of  history,  erected  to  the  memory  of  his 
heroism. 

I  have  a  firm  hope  that  the  recognition  of  the  fellow- 
ship of  the  human  race  will  gradually  increase.  The  most 
enlightened  men  have  always  had  a  very  clear  compre- 
hension of  it,  and  as  occasion  offered,  they  accepted  mar- 
tyrdom without  hesitation  for  the  future  welfare  of  the 
human  race.  But,  in  general,  we  are  still  stuck  fast  in 
individual  isolation  and  egotism.  Only  very  slowly  are 
our  limited  perceptions  of  our  immediate  interests  widen- 
ing into  a  comprehension  of  the  identity  of  the  interests 
of  people,  species  and  race,  and  humanity  must  make  a 
grand  forward  stride  before  the  common  man  will  per- 
form an  act  of  greatness,  which  requires  the  sacrifice  of 
life,  for  the  reason  that  he  has  come  to  look  upon  the  ad- 
vantage to  the  community  which  would  result  from  it,  as 
a  personal  advantage  to  himself,  as  the  man  of  high  rank 
would  have  the  feeling  that  he  was  promoting  his  own 
personal  interests,  when  he  was  bequeathing  to  his  family 
the  memory  of  an  heroic  deed.  It  is  therefore  of  great 
importance  for  the  State  to  possess  a  class  of  whom  it  is 
known  with  certainty,  that  it  has  reasons  for  placing  the 
fulfillment  ot  duty  above  life  itself.  Then  in  moments  of 
danger  the  volunteers  in  the  front  ranks  can  be  depended 
upon.  Then  there  twill  always  be  some  Winkelrieds  on 
hand,  ready  to  sacrifice  themselves  for  the  common  good, 
with  open  eyes,  conscious  of  their  purpose  and  fully  aware 
of  the  inevitable  results. 

These   advantages  of  an  hereditary   aristocracy   are 


DISADVANTAGES  OF  AN  AR1STOCEACY.  127 

counterbalanced  by  certain  disadvantages  it  is  true;  this 
is  unavoidable  in  human  affairs.  In  the  first  place  it  can 
be  said  that  it  exerts  a  beneficial  influence  only  upon  the 
character,  not  upon  the  intellect  of  the  people.  Promoting 
intellectual  activity,  broadening  the  views  of  the  masses 
and  elevating  the  level  of  average  intelligence  —  these 
are  tasks  which  ought  not  to  be  expected  from  an  heredi- 
tary aristocracy.  The  privileged  class  can  be  corporeally 
more  finely  developed  than  the  masses,  because  it  has 
better  food  and  lives  under  conditions  more  favorable  to 
health,  and  this  physical  superiority  gained  by  these  con- 
ducive circumstances  is  increased  and  perpetuated  until 
it  becomes  a  characteristic  of  the  race,  and  is  indelibly 
fixed  upon  the  offspring.  But  in  the  matter  of  intellect, 
it  will  never  take  the  lead,  because  mental  superiority 
can  not  be  inherited,  and,  as  regards  talent,  every  one 
must  be  literally  his  own  ancestor,  the  architect  of  his 
mental  fortune.  This  is  a  strange  fact  which  has  not  been 
sufficiently  dwelt  upon  as  yet.  Genius  and  even  rare 
talents,  are  entirely  distinct  from  genealogy.  They  have 
no  lineage.  They  are  and  remain  individual;  they  ap- 
pear suddenly  and  disappear  as  suddenly  in  a  family;  I 
am  not  aware  of  a  single  case  where  they  have  been  in- 
herited by  the  children  according  to  the  laws  regarding 
physical  traits,  in  an  increased  or  even  equal  measure. 
More  than  this:  men  of  unusual  talents  seldom  leave  any 
offspring,  and  when  they  have  children,  they  are  weakly 
and  less  vigorous  in  every  way  than  the  average  of  man- 
kind. We  seem  to  see  in  this  fact  the  operation  of  a 
mysterious  law  of  nature  which  evidently  wishes  to  pre- 
vent the  development  of  beings  of  too  marked  a  super- 
iority as  regards  intellectual  endowments,  in  a  single 
species. 

Consider  what  the  consequences  would  be  if  genius 


128  THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

could  be  inherited  like  physical  beauty,  muscular  develop- 
ment and  a  fine  figure.  There  would  then  be  living  in 
the  world  a  small  class  of  Shakespeares,  Goethes,  Schillers 
Byrons,  Molieres,  —  between  this  class  and  the  great 
multitude  there  would  be  an  enormous  space;  and  the 
difference  between  them  would  be  constantly  growing 
greater.  This  small  group  could  not  endure  the  ordinary 
conditions  of  existence  and  would  either  attempt  to  have 
certain  special  laws  enacted  for  their  benefit,  thus  forming 
a  small  state  incomprehensible  to  the  masses  within  the 
State,  or  else  they  would  have  the  common  laws  adapted 
to  their  necessities,  which  would  be  ruinous  to  the 
people  at  large,  as  much  so  as  if  they  were  compelled  to 
live  in  and  breathe  an  atmosphere  of  pure  oxygen.  The 
higher  intelligence  always  conquers  the  lower,  even  if 
the  latter  is  combined  with  far  superior  bodily  strength. 
Where  a  mentally  more  developed  race  comes  in  conflict 
with  one  less  developed,  the  latter  invariably  succumbs. 
Perhaps  an  aristocracy  of  genius  even  if  small  in  numbers, 
would  have  the  same  influence  upon  the  people  as  the 
whites  have  upon  the  red-skins  and  negroes.  But  such 
an  aristocracy  will  never  appear  in  this  world.  Genius 
expends  so  much  vital  energy  in  its  ordinary  activity,  that 
none  is  left  for  the  propagation  of  the  species.  What  a 
strange  division  of  labor  there  is  in  the  human  race!  Com- 
mon men  have  the  task  of  looking  after  the  material  pre- 
servation and  perpetuation  of  their  race,  while  to  the  men 
of  rare  talents  is  entrusted  only  the  work  of  promoting 
the  intellectual  development  of  the  race,  as  occasion  offers. 
A  man  can  not  beget  both  thoughts  and  children.  Genius 
is  like  the  centifolious  rose,  whose  vital  energies  are  all 
concentrated  in  the  blossom,  which  thus  becomes  the 
ideal  tvpe  of  its  species,  but  in  this  evolution  the  power 
of  reproducing  its  kind  is  lost.  Goethe,  Walter 


FURTHEB  DISADVANTAGES  OP  AN  ARISTOCRACY.      129 

Scott,  Macaulay  and  Tennyson  may  be  raised  to  the 
peerage,  but  their  descendants  if  they  happen  to  have 
any,  will  never  represent  in  aristocratic  circles  the  intel- 
lectual giants  of  the  people  from  which  they  sprang.  And 
even  when  a  nobleman  born,  like  Byron  for  instance,  has 
the  gift  of  genius,  this  does  not  prove  that  it  was  the  pre- 
rogative of  his  rank. 

Thus  we  see  that  the  finest  intelligences  of  a  nation 
are  not  to  be  found  in  its  hereditary  aristocracy,  which  as 
members  of  a  caste,  are  only  superior  to  the  rest  of  the 
nation  by  their  qualities  of  body  and  character.  In  con- 
sequence of  this  fact  it  is  to  their  interest  to  rate  these 
qualities  higher  than  those  which  they  do  not  possess. 
They  set  up  an  ideal'before  the  man  and  the  citizen,  which 
does  not  depend  for  its  brilliancy  upon  intellectual  en- 
dowments, and  where  their  influence  preponderates,  intel- 
ligence can  not  count  upon  being  accorded  the  rank  to 
which  it  considers  itself  justly  entitled.  A  second  dis- 
advantage of  an  hereditary  aristocracy  in  a  nation,  is  that 
its  existence  leads  unavoidably  to  violations  of  the  right 
of  single  citizens.  It  deprives  many  of  them  of  their  just 
share  of  air  and  sunshine.  It  has  one  advantage  over  the 
plebeian  which  increases  the  obstacles  in  the  upward  path 
of  the  latter,  sometimes  closing  it  entirely.  All  the  laws 
which  assert  the  equality  of  the  citizens  without  regard 
to  birth,  are  powerless  in  the  matter:  the  conditions  being 
equal  between  two  rival  candidates,  the  one  of  aristocratic 
birth  will  obtain  the  coveted  position,  and  often  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  he  is  known  to  be  inferior  in  endowments  to 
the  other.  And  it  can  not  be  otherwise.  Absolute  justice 
is  a  theoretical  conception  which  can  not  be  materialized. 
Justice  as  we  realize  it,  is  the  diagonal  of  a  parallelogram 
whose  sides  are  might  and  the  ideal  of  right.  The  con- 
stitution of  society  imposes  upon  us  all  certain  limitation* 


130  THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

and  the  more  favorable  station  of  the  aristocrat  on  the 
battle  field  of  life  is  one  of  them.  We  must  bear  it  with 
the  rest.  We  can  make  the  attempt  to  force  our  way  to 
the  front  ranks,  and  if  our  shoulders  and  elbows  are  strong 
enough  we  can  succeed.  If  we  have  not  these  natural 
advantages  then  our  complaints  of  the  privileges  of  the 
higher  classes  are  about  equal  to  the  kid's  complaint  of 
the  rudeness  of  the  lion  who  is  about  to  devour  her. 

If  we  view  the  world  from  the  standpoint  of  natural 
science,  and  admit  that  the  universal  laws  regulating  the 
organic  world  are  also  the  fundamental  and  governing 
principles  of  human  social  life,  then  we  can  not  hesitate 
to  acknowledge  that  the  institution  of  an  hereditary  aristo- 
cracy is  not  only  natural,  but  in  some  respects  even  use- 
ful in  a  nation.  Whatever  philosophical  speculation  which 
does  not  take  account  of  actual  facts,  may  have  to  say 
against  the  existence  of  a  privileged  class,  it  is  absolutely 
certain  that  such  a  class  is  sure  to  arise  wherever  more 
than  two  human  beings  combine  into  a  permanent  union 
of  interests.  The  example  of  all  communities  founded 
originally  upon  the  basis  of  absolute  equality,  is  before 
us  to  convince  us  of  this  fact.  The  great  republic  of  North 
America  is  theoretically  a  perfect  democracy.  But  prac- 
ticably, the  slave-owners  of  the  southern  states  formed  an 
hereditary  aristocracy  with  all  its  specific  instincts  and 
attributes,  in  the  eastern  states  the  descendants  of  the 
first  Puritan  pilgrims  and  of  the  early  colonists  from  Hol- 
land lay  claim  to  an  exclusiveness  and  social  privileges, 
which  they  deny  to  the  thousands  who  came  over  later 
and  their  descendants,  and  the  great  financial  pirates,  who 
have  amassed  their  wealth  by  making  use  of  the  most  ob- 
jectionable stratagems  and  influence,  have  established 
regular  hereditary  dynasties,  whose  nembers  are  not  only 
in  social  life  the  models  for  the  imitation  of  the  crowd, 


A  PRIVILEGED  CLASS  INEVITABLE  IN  EVERY  COMMUNITY.  131 

but  interfere  in  the  destinies  of  the  community  and  of  the 
state  with  very  genuine  power.  The  instinct  for  equality 
seems  to  be  exceptionally  powerful  in  the  French  people. 
And  yet^it  did  not  prevent  them  from  erecting  a  new  in- 
stitution of  nobility  on  the  ruins  of  the  old,  which  does 
not  boast  of  titles  and  coats  of  arms  perhaps,  but  possesses 
all  the  substantial  attributes  of  an  aristocracy,  and  whose 
ancestors — oh,  irony  of  history! — were  precisely  those 
most  fanatical  equality  enthusiasts  of  the  great  Revolution. 
I  am  not  referring  to  the  imperial  aris-tocracy  formed  by 
Napoleon  upon  the  model  of  the  historical  nobility,  from 
the  numbers  of  the  regicides,  but  to  those  families  which 
have  inherited  political  influence  and  wealth  since  the 
dayr  of  the  great  Revolution,  because  their  ancestors 
played  more  or  less  important  roles  at  that  time.  If  we 
examine  the  list  of  names  of  those  who  have,  as  ministers, 
senators,  representatives  and  high  public  officials,  governed 
France  during  the  last  four  generations,  we  will  find  that 
certain  names  constantly  reappear.  The  Carnots,  Cam- 
bons,  Andrieux,  Brissons,  Bessons,  Periers,  Aragos,  etc., 
have  founded  powerful  dynasties  of  politicians,  and  any 
one  who  is  acquainted  with  the  contemporaneous  bearers 
of  these  name,  will  acquiesce  in  my  assertion  that  tl  ey  did 
not  owe  their  first  political  positions  to  their  own  abilities, 
but  to  their  names.  The  Ottoman  Empire  also  has  a 
strictly  democratic  constitution  and  with  the  exception  of 
the  Osman  dynasty,  and  the  disregarded  descendants  of 
the  Prophet,  is  without  an  hereditary  nobility.  Every  day 
common  workmen,  or  barbers,  become  pashas,  and  the 
caprice  of  the  Sultan,  who  alone  has  the  right  to  distribute 
titles  and  honors,  never  enquires  into  the  lineage  of  the 
favorite.  And  yet  the  country  as  a  general  thing,  i 
governed  by  the  sons  of  these  parvenus,  the  effendis,  and 
although  the  pasha  can  not  bequeathe  his  title  to  his  off- 


132          THE  LIE  OP  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

spring,  yet  he  can  usually  manage  to  invest  him  with 
part  of  his  authority.  Nepotism  is  the  very  last  root  of 
hereditary  privileges,  which  still  remains  alive,  when  the 
democratic  hoe  has  chopped  out  all  the  others.  It  is  human 
nature  to  favor  one's  own  son  or  the  son  of  one's  friend, 
instead  of  strangers,  no  matter  what  the  merits  of  the  lat- 
ter may  be!  The  son-in-law  of  the  professor  gets  the  grand 
scientific  title  instead  of  his  rival  who  did  not  choose  a 
wife  with  his  foresight,  the  diplomatic  career  is  easily  at- 
tainable by  the  son  of  the  Cabinet  minister,  and  all  the 
youthful  scions  who  played  about  the  drawing-rooms  and 
halls  of  their  distinguished  fathers'  residences,  form  a  ring, 
a  closed  phalanx,  which  the  outsider  has  great  difficulty 
in  breaking  through,  and  he  who  stands  nearest  to  the 
dish  dips  his  spoon  into  it  first  and  oftenest. 


IV. 

I  have  conceded  that  an  aristocracy  is  a  natural  and 
therefore  unavoidable  and  necessarily  permanent  institu- 
tion of  humanity  and  do  not  oppose  the  hereditary  honors 
and  privileges  which  are  accorded  to  it;  but  only  upon  one 
condition:  that  the  aristocracy  really  consist  of  the  best 
and  most  highly  qualified  human  material  in  the  nation.  If 
a  caste  of  nobility  can  show  an  anthropological  foundation 
for  its  pretensions,  then  its  existence  is  justified.  It  must 
have  been  formed  originally  out  of  a  group  of  selected 
human  beings,  whose  natural  advantages  were  perpetu- 
ated and  increased  by  sexual  selection.  This  is  the  his- 
torical evolution  of  all  aristocracy.  In  a  people  originally 
all  equal,  the  strongest  and  finest-looking  men,  the  brav- 
est and  most  sagacious,  rose  early  to  positions  of  power 
au<l  influence  ;miong  their  fellows,  and  their  children 
derived  their  pride  in  the  family  name  from  these  natural 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  EUROPEAN  NOBILITY.  133 

endowments  of  the  parents.  The  son  had  the  feeling  that 
his  father  did  not  owe  his  exaltation  to  any  capricious 
human  favor,  but  to  Mother  Nature  herself,  and  he  ex- 
pressed this  idea  in  terms  corresponding  to  his  primitive 
conceptions,  so  that  he  boasted  of  being  descended  from 
the  gods  of  his  people,  or,  otherwise  expressed,  from  its 
ideal  types.  The  ancient  Germanic  races,  the  modern 
Hindoos,  and  certain  primitive  tribes  such  as  the  North 
American  Indians,  have  this  demi-god  nobility.  But 
where  on  the  contrary,  a  nation  has  been  formed  from  a 
mixture  of  different  ethnological  elements,  where  a 
stronger  has  conquered  a  weaker  race,  the  descendants  of 
the  conquerors,  that  is,  of  the  more  vigorous  and  energetic 
stock,  better  developed  at  least  physically,  form  the 
aristocracy.  This  was  the  origin  of  the  nobility  in  all  the 
European  countries,  which  during  the  Dark  Ages,  were 
obliged  to  submit  to  the  irruptions  of  alien,  mostly  Ger- 
manic races.  The  original  aristocratic  stock  of  France 
was  mixed  Frankish,  Burgundian  and  Saxon-Norman,  of 
Spain,  west  Gothic,  of  Italy,  Vandalian,  Gothic  and  Lom- 
bard, partly  also  Suabian,  French  and  Spanish,  in  Russia, 
Scandinavian,  in  England,  Norman,  in  Hungary,  Magyar, 
and  in  China,  Mantchoorian.  Everything  that  I  have  said 
in  regard  to  the  justification  of  the  existence  of  a  superior 
social  class,  can  be  applied  to  an  aristocracy  that  was  orig- 
inally composed  of  the  most  perfect  individuals  of  the 
race,  or  of  the  conquering  nation.  Such  a  noblesse  will 
be  fully  justified  in  assuming  the  places  of  honor  and  res- 
ponsibility, because  they  will  have  the  strength  to  seize 
them  and  retain  them.  From  the  start,  better  organized 
and  higher-minded  than  the  masses  of  the  plebeians,  they 
will  be  obliged  to  practise  and  increase  their  strength  and 
valor  continually,  as  otherwise  they  could  not  resist  the 
encroachments  of  the  people.  By  this  means  their  suprem- 


134         THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

acy  over  the  people  is  maintained.  The  operation  of 
natural  laws  leaves  them  only  the  alternative  of  keeping 
up  the  advantage  they  have  gained  over  the  rest,  or  of 
vanishing  into  obscurity.  They  must  be  heroes,  for  if  they 
value  their  lives  more  than  their  privileges,  the  latter  will 
be  wrested  from  them  by  those  who  have  no  fear  of  death. 
They  must  perform  their  duties  as  van -guard  and  stand- 
ard-bearers in  every  particular,  for  if  a  chance  is  left  for 
others  to  press  in,  they  will  be  overwhelmed  and  forced 
to  the  rear.  They  can  not  form  an  exclusive  caste,  for 
in  that  case  they  would  degenerate,  and  the  moment  that 
their  would-be  rivals  discover  that  they  have  ceased  to  be 
the  better  race,  they  would  be  pushed  off  from  their  pedes- 
tals. They  can  not  set  themselves  up  in  opposition  to  the 
natural  laws  to  whose  operation  they  owe  their  own  pre- 
eminence. As  often  as  a  person  of  marked  individuality 
arises  in  the  people,  giving  evidences  of  great  superiority 
above  the  average,  compelling  the  masses  to  acknowledge 
his  higher  organization,  the  aristocracy  are  obliged  to  has- 
ten and  open  their  ranks  to  him  and  consecrate  him  as 
one  of  their  number.  This  constant  infusion  of  new  and 
vigorous  blood  counterbalances  the  unavoidable  degen- 
eration which  time  produces,  and  this  elevation  of  the  fit- 
test, which  was  the  foundation  of  the  aristocracy,  should 
continue  unchecked  for. all  time. 

This  is  the  theory  of  an  aristocracy  whose  right  to  its 
claims  must  be  acknowledged  by  all,  whose  supremacy 
must  be  borne.  But  does  the  practice  correspond  with 
the  theory?  Is  the  nobility  which  fills  up  the  foreground 
of  the  scene  in  almost  every  country  in  Europe,  is  it  an 
aristocracy  such  as  I  have  been  describing?  No  one, 
master  of  his  senses,  can  answer  yes  to  this  question.  The 
so-called  nobility,  that  is,  the  class  which  is  distinguished 
by  hereditary  titles  above  the  rest  of  the  nation,  fulfills 


PATENT  NOBILITY.  135 

not  a  single  one  of  the  conditions  of  a  natural  aristocracy. 
The  demi-god  nobility  in  those  nations  which  have  not 
been  subjected  to  foreign  conquest,  and  the  victor  nobility 
in  those  nations  which  were  subjugated, — the  original 
noble  stock  in  all  has  either  died  out  or  decayed.  Died 
out  or  decayed,  and  that  too,  by  its  own  fault,  because  it 
resisted  the  operation  of  those  laws  of  nature  to  which  it 
owed  its  own  existence,  because  it  became  exclusive,  and 
did  not  understand  how  to  renew  its  youth.  On  account 
of  this  many  families  wore  out  their  fruitfulness,  so  that 
the  day  arrived  when  no  heir  was  forth-coming;  in  others 
the  descendants  of  distinguished  ancestors  became  gradu- 
ally stupid,  cowardly  and  weakly;  they  were  not  able  to 
defend  either  their  estates  or  their  positions  from  the  covet- 
ousness  of  those  beneath  them,  more  powerful  and  vigor- 
ous than  they,  and  so  they  have  gradually  sunk  lower  and 
lower  into  poverty  and  obscurity,  until  their  blood  now 
flows  perhaps,  in  the  veins  of  some  day-laborer  or  peas- 
ant. Their  positions  left  vacant  by  death  or  decay,  are 
filled  by  a  miscellaneous  set  of  people  who  do  not  owe 
their  elevation  to  higher  organizations,  not  to  nature,  but 
to  the  favor  of  monarchs  or  other  distinguished  persons. 
All  the  aristocracy  of  the  present  day — I  do  not  believe 
there  are  any  authentic  exceptions  to  this  rule — is  patent 
aristocracy,  and  in  by  far  the  largest  majority  of  cases, 
of  very  recent  date.  An  individual  will,  not  an  anthropo- 
logical law,  was  the  creator  of  their  titles.  But  how  since 
the  Middle  Ages,  beyond  which  not  a  single  genealogical 
tree  in  Europe  spreads  its  branches,  hew  did  the  fortunate 
man  gain  the  favor  of  the  prince  which  found  expression 
in  the  letters  patent  of  nobility?  By  ideal  human  qual- 
ities, by  endowments,  talents,  which  made  it  desirable  to 
use  their  possessor  as  new  and  fine  stock  for  the  elevation 
of  the  race?  The  history  of  all  the  noble  houses  of  Europe 


13G  THE  LIE  OF  A    MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

lies  open  to  us,  we  have  only  to  read  to  find  the  reply  to 
this  question.  There  is  hardly  a  single  instance  of  the 
elevation  to  the  peerage  of  a  grand  and  noble  nature, 
which  could  present  to  mankind  an  ideal  type  of  its  pos- 
sibilities. If,  as  happened  once  in  a  great  while,  a  man 
of  genuine  merit  was  presented  with  a  coronet,  he  must 
have  had  combined  with  his  fine  qualities,  others  of  a 
lower  and  contemptible  character,  and  to  the  latter  alone 
did  he  owe  the  royal  recognition  of  his  services.  The 
causes  of  the  exaltation  of  numerous  families  are  such 
that  they  can  not  be  mentioned  in  respectable  society: 
these  families  owe  their  honors  to  the  shame  of  their 
female  progenitors.  Their  coats  of  arms  keep  in  perpetual 
remembrance  the  fact  that  complaisant  fathers  and  hus- 
bands and  unprejudiced  beauties  laid  the  foundations  of 
their  high  estate.  -In  other  cases,  the  patent  of  nobility 
was  the  reward  01'  some  rascality  or  crime,  by  which  the 
founder  of  the  house  had  served  his  royal  master.  I  must 
admit  however,  that  unchastity  and  assassination,  although 
often  enough  the  starting  point  of  brilliant  earthly 
careers,  have  yet  been  the  means  by  which  only  the 
minority  of  noble  families  attained  their  privileges.  The 
majority  gained  their  pre-eminence  in  a  more  ordinary 
way.  We  find  wealth  or  many  years'  service  in  the  army 
or  government,  frequent  causes  of  the  elevation  of  men 
to  the  peerage.  How  can  men  amass  wealth  sufficient  to 
attract  royal  notice?  By  being  unscrupulous  or  extra- 
ordinarily fortunate,  and  the  former  is  of  far  more  frequent 
occurrence  than  the  latter.  During  the  times  of  the  Re- 
formation they  plundered  the  churches;  at  a  later  period 
they  fitted  out  cruisers,  that  is,  became  pirates;  then  slave- 
traders  or  slave-owners;  in  modern  times  they  become 
government  contractors  and  defraud  the  State,  or  else 
speculators  and  wrest  the  hard-earned  savings  from  the 


MEN  OP  TRUE  WORTH  NEVER  RAISED  TO  THE  PEERAGE.  137 

hand  of  toil,  by  cornering  the  markets,  or,  in  the  most 
respectable  case,  they  become  manufacturers  on  a  large 
scale  and  extort  their  millions  from  their  hundreds  or 
thousands  of  wretched  pauper-laborers.  And  what  sort  of 
people  are  those  who  obtain  recognition  from  the  prince 
for  their  services  in  peace  or  war?  They  are  always,  I 
say  always,  without  exceptions,  clammy  mollusc-souls, 
slimy,  cringing  hangers-on,  who  spend  their  lives  in  stif- 
ling every  sentiment  of  manly  independence,  culling  out 
every  trace  of  pride  and  self-esteem,  abasing  themselves 
before  any  one  superior  to  them  in  station  and  imitating 
his  peculiarities  to  flatter  themselves  into  his  favor,  counter- 
feiting extravagant  loyalty  to  his  person,  and  finally,  as  a 
fitting  crown  for  the  services  of  a  lite-time,  spent  in  crawl- 
ing in  the  mire,  they  beg  for  a  title  of  nob'Hty.  Men 
who  are  made  of  good,  solid,  humanized  substance, 
with  a  stiff  back-bone,  who  can  not  be  peaceful  and  happy 
when  they  are  not  acting  out  their  true  nature,  such  men 
will  never  condescend  to  deny  their  own  individuality 
and  ape  the  opinions  of  those  who  happen  to  be  above 
them,  flattering,  intriguing,  begging,  and,  by  these  means, 
the  only  ones  that  are  sure  of  success,  win  the  royal  good- 
will. The  prince  selects  such  men  when  he  has  posts  of 
danger  ana  responsibility  to  fill,  but  forgets  them  when 
he  has  favors  to  bestow.  These  men  press  forward  and 
are  ready  to  sacrifice  everything  when  it  is  a  question  of 
serving  the  country;  but  they  do  not  turn  their  hands  over 
to  attract  the  monarch's  glance  in  processions  and  pa- 
rades. So  that  a  patent  nobility  is  an  institution  which  is 
to  the  human  kind,  what  horse-racing  is  to  horse-breeding. 
Those  who  win  the  race,  and  are  selected  to  raise  a  new 
breed,  are  however  the  possessors  of  qualities  which  a 
common  father  might  wish  for  his  son,  so  that  he  might 
make  his  way  in  the  world,  as  it  is  called,  but  which  no 


138  THB  LIB  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

poet  would  dare  to  ascribe  to  his  hero,  because  poetry 
maintains  the  ideals  of  humanity  purer  than  laws  and 
customs,  because  the  esthetic  conscience  still  asserts  itself, 
where  the  moral  conscience  has  nothing  more  to  say,  and 
because  we  will  shake  hands  with  such  men,  whose  suc- 
cess is  unquestionable,  but  we  will  not  allow  them  to  be 
idealized  in  poetry  and  held  up  as  models  before  us.  Those 
individuals  who  have  been  exalted  above  the  multitudes 
by  honors  and  titles  in  each  generation,  are  not  always  the 
poorest  endowed  as  regards  talents.  They  are  not  stupid, 
on  the  contrary,  they  are  crafty  and  skillful;  in  persever- 
ance, tenacity  and  strength  of  will,  they  are  also  above 
the  average.  But  that  which  is  certainly  lacking  in  thenr. 
is  character  and  independence,  and  these  are  the  very 
points  in  which  a  natural,  that  is,  a  blood  aristocracy, 
would  be  sure  to  excel,  and  which  would  create  alone  a 
social  inequality  in  their  favor  and  to  the  prejudice  of  the 
plebeian,  without  the  intervention  of  written  laws. 

I  have  thus  drawn  the  portrait  of  the  individual  l~-y 
whose  elevation  to  the  peerage  the  family  became  bn- 
nobled.  His  descendants  will  usually  rise  to  a  higher 
moral  level  than  their  progenitor.  It  does  not  require 
such  strenuous  efforts  to  retain  as  to  obtain  a  title.  The 
nobleman  is  not  obliged  to  be  the  unscrupulous  egotist,  the 
courtier  or  the  intriguer  that  his  ancestor  was  to  whom  he 
owes  his  rank.  His  character  improves  by  the  gradual 
action  of  the  views  inseparable  from  his  position,  which 
are  based  upon  the  original  theory  that  the  aristocracy  is 
the  society  comprising  the  best  and  noblest  persons  in 
the  State.  For  although  the  patent  nobility  may  have 
nothing  in  common  with  a  blood  nobility,  yet  it  main- 
tains stoutly  the  theoretical  fictions  on  which  the  latter  is 
really  founded.  What  has  been  the  anthropological  fate 
of  the  modern  aristocratic  families?  They  have  either  in- 


CAUSES  OF  THE  DETERIORATION  OP  THE  NOBILITY.     139 

termarried  in  deference  to  mediaeval  prejudices  and  ab- 
horred mesalliances,  as  they  are  called,  or  they  have  in 
certain  cases  allowed  these  marriages  with  persons  of  in- 
ferior social  station  to  take  place.  The  result  of  constant 
intermarriage  is  a  speedy  and  inevitable  decay  of  the  no- 
ble families.  This  is  owing  to  the  fact  that  they  originally 
sprang  from  persons  not  endowed  with  superior  organic 
strength,  as  would  be  the  case  in  a  natural  aristocracy, 
descended  from  better  organized  individuals,  and  hence, 
inbreeding  must  necessarily  result  in  a  rapid  exhaustion 
of  the  vital  capital.  This  vital  capital  may  be  as  large  as 
that  of  any  common  family,  but  it  is  exhausted  sooner  on 
account  of  the  greater  expenditure  of  it  necessary  in  the 
more  intensive  life  inevitable  in  the  higher  and  more  re- 
sponsible position,  without  being  able  to  borrow  judic- 
iously from  time  to  time  from  the  inexhaustible  vital  capital 
of  the  people.  And  when  a  member  of  the  aristocracy  does 
marry  outside  of  his  circle,  and  brings  new  blood  into  the 
family,  let  us  see  what  kind  of  blood  it  is  and  what  the 
causes  are  which  led  to  his  matrimonial  choice.  The  cases 
are  rare  in  which  a  man  of  rank  takes  a  girl  from  the 
lower  classes  to  be  his  wife  on  account  of  her  physical 
and  moral  superiority.  In  order  to  bring  about  a  genuine 
improvement  in  the  blood  of  a  family,  the  mother  of  the  new 
branch  should  be  some  woman  who  possesses  in  addition  to 
the  normal  physical  organization  which  we  recognize  as  har- 
monious beauty,  a  soundness  and  equipoise  of  tempera- 
ment, qualities  which  reveal  themselves  in  a  calm,  or  even 
narrow-minded,  morality.  Usually  a  mesalliance  is  caused 
by  the  attractions  of  wealth  or  else  by  some  caprice  of 
passion.  Let  us  analyze  the  conditions  under  which  these  two 
kinds  of  mesalliances  are  usually  contracted.  A  man  of 
ancient  lineage  marries  some  wealthy  plebeian  in  order  to 
repiate  nis  coat  of  arms,  as  the  saying  is.  In  that  case  he 


140  THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

is  either' some  roue  who  has  come  to  grief  by  his  extra- 
vagances and  seeks  refuge  in  matrimony  as  he  might  in 
a  charitable  institution  or  else  he  is  some  decayed  speci- 
men of  humanity  without  vital  strength;  for  a  man  full  of 
organic  energy  is  proud  and  enterprising,  he  will  only 
court  the  woman  for  whom  he  feels  an  affinity,  and  is  well 
able  to  make  a  good  appearance  in  the  world,  without 
the  dowry  of  an  unloved  wife.  The  aristocratic  bride- 
groom must  be  also  a  man  of  common  character  and  ig- 
noble views,  prepared  to  dissemble  and  lie,  for  rich 
heiresses  as  a  rule,  demand  that  the  coarse  appropriation 
of  their  wealth  should  be  concealed  under  the  appearance 
of  affection,  at  least  during  the  honeymoon.  She,  the 
wealthy  heiress,  is  also  a  very  inferior  type  of  humanity; 
she  is  the  daughter  of  an  intellectually  limited  and  worth- 
less father,  for  no  other  kind  of  a  parent  would  sacrifice  his 
child  to  external  show,  nor  wish  to  enter  into  family  rela- 
tions with  a  society  which  will  always  look  down  upon 
him  and  his,  and  treat  them  with  contempt,  as  unwished- 
for  intruders.  The  girl  herself,  is  either  contented  with 
her  lot,  willing  to  be  the  wife  of  a  man  to  whom  she  is  in- 
different, in  which  case  she  is  a  creature  without  heart  or 
character,  a  vain  foolish  doll,  or  else  she  experiences  a 
longing  to  love  and  be  loved,  and  yet  resigns  herself  to 
the  fate  projected  for  her  by  her  family,  and  this  presup- 
poses that  she  has  a  nature  without  strength  of  will  and 
a  spiritless  character.  The  mesalliances  which  are  not 
contracted  for  a  dowry  are  yet  similar  to  them  in  kind. 
I  am  not  speaking  of  course  of  those  cases  where  true 
and  respectful  love  leads  to  the  union  of  persons  of  dif- 
ferent social  stations.  I  can  pass  these  by  more  easily  as 
they  do  not  occur  hardly  more  than  once  in  a  century, 
and  have  never  exercised  any  appreciable  influence  upon 
the  improvement  of  the  aristocracy  as  a  race,  on  account 


MESALLIANCES.  14J 

of  their  rarity.  The  rule  is  that  when  a  man  of  rank 
marries  beneath  him,  it  is  usually  some  theatrical  star, 
circus-rider  or  clever  adventuress,  known  in  all  the  water- 
ing-places and  metropolitan  drawing-rooms  of  Europe. 
Of  the  couple  thus  formed,  the  woman  is  an  abnormal 
being,  who  has  already  given  the  world  to  understand 
that  she  does  not  conform  to  the  average  type  of  human- 
ity, that  she  selected  an  exceptional,  often  eccentric  and 
sometimes  objectionable  life-career  from  choice,  that  she 
tempted  fate,  and  rebelled  against  the  duties  which 
modern  society  imposes  upon  its  feminine  members.  The 
man  is  what  psychiatry  calls  a  "degenerate,"  that  is,  an 
individual  m  whom  will  and  reason  are  decayed,  the 
moral  sense  rudimentary  and  sexual  passion  alone,  often 
in  a  strange  state  of  degeneration,  the  main -spring  of  the 
inner  life.  Such  persons  are  unable  to  resist  the  desire 
for  the  possession  of  a  woman  who  knows  how  to  awaken 
their  love;  in  order  to  win  her  they  commit  follies,  ig- 
noble actions  and  even  crimes,  if  nothing  else  will  do.  If 
we  glance  through  the  novels  which  close  with  the  mar- 
riage of  the  prince  and  the  actress,  we  will  find  almost 
without  exception  that  the  man  is  a  "degenerate"  in  the 
technical  sense,  a  weak,  sensual  and  impulsive  nature. 
The  mesalliance  therefore,  as  experience  shows  that  it  is 
usually  contracted,  is  very  far  removed  from  being  of  any 
anthropological  benefit  to  the  aristocracy;  on  the  contrary, 
it  seems  as  if  it  were  a  fiendishly  shrewd  plan  for  uniting 
the  very  worst  specimens  of  humanity  in  matrimony,  to 
produce  offspring  morally  diseased. 

This  is  the  origin  of  the  patent  nobility,  and  this  is 
its  necessarily  consequent  fate.  The  ancestor  is  an  ego- 
tist, courtier  and  intriguer,  probably  all  three  combined, 
the  descendant  condemned  to  decay  as  if  by  a  decree  of 
destinv  —  either  by  the  exhaustion  of  the  family  blood 


142  THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

by  unfavorable  inbreeding  in  a  narrow  circle  of  equally 
poorly  qualified  families,  or  else  by  contracting  misallian- 
ces with  undeveloped  or  abnormally  developed  excep- 
tional types  of  womankind.  These  sociological  and  an- 
thropological facts  are  open  to  the  eyes  of  all  and  are 
known  to  all  cultivated  people.  And  yet  —  and  here  we 
see  another  monument  of  human  cowardice,  stupidity  and 
hypocrisy  —  and  yet  the  nobility  enjoys  a  supreme  social 
consideration,  accorded  by  most  men  voluntarily  and  even 
with  a  certain  inward  satisfaction.  Snobbishness,  which 
so  "dearly  loves  a  lord,"  is  at  home  in  all  countries,  even 
the  most  democratic.  The  Frenchman,  who  boasts  of 
having  discovered  equality,  is  as  proud  of  the  acquain- 
tance of  a  duke  or  marquis,  and  as"  interested  in  the  daily 
life  of  his  national  aristocracy,  as  any  English  flunky. 
The  American,  who  is  supposed  to  adore  the  Almighty 
Dollar  alone,  and  pretends  to  ridicule  the  differences  of 
social  station  in  the  old  world,  is  after  all,  inwardly  en- 
raptured when  he  can  adorn  his  drawing-room  with  a  live 
lord.  He  who  wishes  to  know  the  exact  price  of  a  title, 
that  is  in  certain  countries,  can  easily  obtain  the  infor- 
mation. The  cost  of  a  princely,  or  baronial  coronet  is 
well-known.  We  are  aware  that  this  ornament  is  the 
equivalent  of  a  certain  sum  of  money,  and  yet  we  pay  a 
reverence  to  it  which  we  would  never  think  of  awarding 
to  the  latter.  The  following  little  trait  shows  the  pro- 
pensity to  lying  of  our  civilization  better  than  could  be 
proved  by  volumes  of  argumentation.  A  representative 
laid  before  the  French  legislature  a  proposition  to  give  to 
any  one  who  so  desired  it,  a  title  of  nobility  upon  the  pay- 
ment of  a  certain  fixed  sum  into  the  treasury;  for  $12,000 
he  could  become  a  duke,  for  $10.000  a  marquis,  and  so 
on  in  proportion,  until  for  $3.000  he  could  assume  the 
simple  title  of  monsieur  de.  If  this  proposition  were  tr- 


TITLES   OP    NOBILITY    FOE   SALE.  143 

become  a  law,  there  would  be  hardly  any  one  who  would 
take  advantage  of  this  open,  honest,  business  transaction 
and  buy  a  title  before  the  eyes  of  the  public  as  he  would 
a  coat  or  a  watch-chain.     But  at  the  same  time  if  an  ad- 
vertisement is  inserted  into  some  prominent  newspaper 
saying  that  titles  of  nobility  will  be  procured  for  wealthy 
people  without  publicity,  a  hundred  replies  to  it  are  re- 
ceived by  each  mail.     If  the  title  of  duke  or  marquis  of 
the  Republic  of  San  Marino,   or  of  the   Principality  of 
Reuss-Schleiz-Greiz,  is  offered  for  sale  at  the  same  or  even 
higher  prices  than  those  proposed  by  the  French  legis- 
lature for  a  similar  title,  a  purchaser  will  soon  be  found. 
And  yet,  in  the  first  case,  it  \?ould  be  a  correct,  straight- 
forward sale,  in  the  other  an  underhanded  and  equivocal 
one;  in  the  first,  the  title  would  have  legal  weight  in  a 
country  containing  thirty  seven  millions  of  inhabitants? 
and  in  the  other  only  in  a  few  villages.     Yes,  but  in  one 
case  it   would  be  publicly   proclaimed  that  the  title  of 
nobility  is  free  to  any  one  who  could  produce  the  neces- 
sary cash,  while  in  the  other,  the  fiction  would  be  thrown 
around  the  sale  that  the  title  was  presented  as  a  reward 
for  services  rendered,  and  that  the  newly-made  nobleman 
is  a  being  of  a  higher  mould  than  the  rest  of  mankind. 
Consequently  people  prefer  to  get  their  titles  of  nobility 
in  some  underhand  way,  through  the  intervention  of  some 
equivocal  go-between,  rather  than  by  the  open  purchase 
in  court,  because  they  like  to  keep  up,  at  least  externally, 
the  appearance  of  a  nobility  founded  on  genuine  merit  or 

royal  favor. 

The  privileges  accorded  to  the  aristocratic  class 
not  consist  of  titles  and  compliments  alone,  neither  are 
they  only  of  a  social  nature.     Notwithstanding  the 
that  all  citizens  are  declared  by  the  laws  to  have  abs 
lutely  equal  rights  and  duties,  the  nobility,  in  countne; 


144  THE  LIE  OF  A  MONARCHY  AND  ARISTOCRACY. 

with  a  monarchical  form  of  government,  has  managed  to 
exert  a  very  genuine  and  very  important  influence,  which 
has  obtained  for  it  the  possession  of  all  the  sinecures  in 
the  gift  of  the  people  and  State.  I  use  the  word  sinecure 
in  its  most  comprehensive  sense.  According  to  the  pres- 
ent conditions  of  holding  and  acquiring  property,  we 
must  consider  those  public  offices  which  have  a  certain 
income  attached  with  limited  duties,  as  presents  from  the 
State.  All  these  offices,  which  require  no  special  capa- 
bility, which  any  average  man  could  fill  if  he  once  got 
the  chance,  which  must  have  been  the  positions  referred 
to  in  the  saying  that  when  God  gives  a  man  an  office  He 
gives  him  sense  to  fill  it,  that  is,  the  positions  of  officers, 
diplomates,  beneficiaries,  court  dignitaries,  etc.,  are  all 
filled  by  members  of  the  aristocracy.  The  State  thus 
favors  this  small  group  of  privileged  individuals  and 
presents  them  with  these  fine  offices,  upon  which  they 
have  not  the  slightest  reasonable  claim;  it  sets  the  table 
for  them  with  an  abundant  and  tempting  repast,  all  be- 
cause, as  Beaumarchais  says,  they  took  the  trouble  to  be 
born. 

The  fraud  of  a  patent  nobility  which  has  managed  to 
creep  in  to  all  the  historical  forms  and  privileges  of  a 
blood  aristocracy,  whose  existence  had  for  justification  an 
anthropological  principle,  because  it  was  composed  of  the 
descendants  of  the  most  capable  individuals  of  the  race, 
or  of  a  higher  race  of  conquerors,  this  fraud  is  endured 
and  even  cherished  by  mankind,  although  history  and 
reason  are  constantly  holding  up  before  us  the  evidences 
of  the  imposition.  It  is  the  corner-stone  of  the  mon- 
archical form  of  government.  We  act  as  if  we  believe 
that  some  narrow-minded,  petty  dandy,  because  he  is  a 
Sir  This  or  Sir  That,  were  therefore  made  of  finer  stuff 
than  the  rest  of  the  people.  We  act  as  if  we  believed 


PRIVILEGES   OF    THE   ARISTOCRACY.  145 

that  a  king  by  scribbling  a  man's  name  upon  a  bit  of 
parchment,  could  make  a  noble,  superior  creature  out 
of  a  common  human  being.  And,  by  the  way,  why  is 
not  this  miracle  possible  to  a  king?  The  grace  of  God 
is  at  his  disposal  and  by  its  aid  he  might  well  effect 
this  metamorphosis,  which  would  be  as  comprehensible 
and  conceivable  as  any  of  the  miracles  described  in  the 
Bible. 


The  Political  Lie. 

-i— H — 

T^ 

Let  us  take  a  specimen  man  of  our  modern  civiliza« 
tion,  and  examine  the  relations  existing  between  him  and 
the  commonwealth,  a  man  of  the  people,  without  family 
connections  or  influence  to  attract  the  favorable  notice  of 
those  in  power  and  thus  obtain  special  privileges.  I  mean 
of  course,  a  citizen  of  one  of  the  regularly  organized 
European  states.  Some  portions  of  the  portrait  I  intend 
to  draw  will  not  apply  to  this  or  that  special  country. 
The  measure  of  liberty  conceded  to  the  individual  varies 
in  different  places,  and  so  does  the  form  in  which  the 
limitations  occur.  But  in  the  general  outlines,  my  des- 
cription will  give  a  faithful  representation  of  the  place 
and  conditions  prepared  by  our  civilization  for  the  average 
citizen  of  any  European  state. 

My  specimen  typical  man  is  at  the  age  when  his 
parents  recognize  the  necessity  of  attending  to  the  culti- 
vation of  his  mind.  He  is  sent  to  the  public  school.  Be- 
fore he  is  admitted  his  certificate  of  birth  must  be  pro- 
duced. One  would  suppose  that  in  order  to  share  profi- 
tably in  the  blessings  of  public  instruction,  all  that  would 
be  necessary  would  be  to  live  and  to  have  attained  to  a 
certain  measure  of  physical  and  mental  development. 
But  this  would  be  a  mistake.  A  certificate  of  birth  is  ab- 
solutely indispensable.  This  respectable  document  is 
the  key  to  the  secrets  of  reading  and  writing.  If  it  is  not 


THE    LIFE    OP    AN    AVERAGE    CITIZEN.  14? 

in  his  possession,  a  long  and  tedious  process  of  red-tape 
must  be  gone  through  with,  into  whose  details  I  need 
not  enter,  to  procure  a  certificate  signed  by  certain 
persons,  recorded  and  stamped,  to  prove  satisfactorily 
to  the  authorities  that  he  was  born.  The  boy  is  finally 
duly  admitted  into  the  school,  and  leaves  it  a  few  years 
later  to  enter  upon  his  business  career.  His  tastes  and 
inclination^  impel  him  to  assist  his  fellow-citizens  in 
their  suits  at  law,  with  counsel  and  mediation.  But  he  is 
forbidden  by  the  authorities  to  even  attempt  anything  of 
the  kind  until  he  has  procured  the  permission  of  the 
State,  set  forth  in  various  diplomas.  While  on  the  con- 
trary, he  is  perfectly  free  to  make  himself  useful  in  the 
world  by  making  shoes  for  instance,  although  a  badly 
made  shoe  is  sure  to  cause  more  suffering  than  a  foolish 
piece  of  legal  advice.  He  is  now  twenty  years  old  and 
would  like  to  finish  his  education  by  travel.  This  he  is 
not  allowed  to  do.  The  time  has  come  when  he  is  obliged 
to  serve  out  his  term  of  military  service,  give  up  all  claims 
to  his  own  individuality  for  several  years,  which  is  even 
more  painful  than  the  loss  of  his  shadow  was  to  Peter 
Sohlemihl,  and  become  an  automaton  with  no  will  of  its 
own.  Very  well.  He  owes  this  sacrifice  to  his  coun- 
try, which  may  be  threatened  some  day  with  invasion. 
During  this  time  of  military  service,  my  Hansr  —  I  will 
call  him  Hans  for  convenience  —  finds  leisure  and  oppor- 
tunity to  fall  in  love  with  some  young  woman.  He  is  a 
high-minded  young  fellow  and  scorns  to  make  love  to  his 
sweetheart  in  the  kitchen,  according  to  the  usual  con- 
venient garrison  style.  He  wishes  to  get  married.  Very 
well  again.  He  wishes  to,  but  he  is  not  allowed  to.  As 
long  as  he  is  a  soldier  he  must  remain  a  bachelor.  Surely 
it  would  not  interfere  with  anybody's  rights,  nor  diminish 
his  ability  for  bearing  arms,  nor  injure  any  one  far  or 


148  THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

near,  if  he  were  a  married  soldier,  but  all  that  is  not  to  the 
point,  he  is  obliged  to  wait  until  he  has  taken  off  his  uni- 
form for  good.     This  finally  comes  to  pass.     Now  can  ho 
take  his  sweetheart  home  with  him  ?  Certainly,  if  both  he 
and  she  are  provided  with  all  the  necessary  papers,  and  a 
goodly  lot  of  them  is  required.     If  even  one  of  them  is 
lacking,  it  is  all  up  with  the  wedding.     Hans  manages  to 
sail  around  this  dangerous  reef  by  skill  and  good  fortune 
at  last,  and  now  he  would  like  to  open   a   wine-house. 
This  he  can  not  do  without  the  permission  of  the  authori- 
ties, and  they  will  or  will  not  grant  this  permission  as 
they  happen  to  think  best.     He  would  meet  with  the  same 
experience  in  many  other  trades  which  he  might  select, 
even  if  they  did  not  interfere  in  the  slightest  with  the 
rights  of  others,  nor  could  possibly  be  construed  as  a  nui- 
sance, as  injurious  to  the  health  of  others  or  as  immoral. 
Hans  wishes  to  rebuild  his  house.     He  must  not  stir  in 
the  matter  unless  he  has  the  requisite  certificate  of  per- 
mission from  the  authorities  in  his  hand.     This  is  easily 
understood.      The  street  belongs  to  everybody,  his  house 
stands  on  the  street  —  consequently  he  must  submit  to 
the  usual  regulations.     He  has  also  an  extensive  garden, 
and  in  the  centre  of  it,  far  from  the  public  street,  sheltered 
from  all  eyes  and  where  no  stranger's  foot  would  ever 
enter,  he  wishes  to  erect  some  building.     Even  this  is  not 
allowable    without    the   indispensable   permit   from    the 
authorities.    He  perhaps  has  a  store,  and  feels  no  need  of 
a  day  of  rest  in  every  seven.     He  would  like  to  sell  goods 
Sundays  as  well  as  other  days.     This  he  must  not  do,  un- 
less he  wishes  to  be  arrested  by  the  police  and  fined  or 
imprisoned.     The  shop  may  be  a  restaurant.   Hans  suffers 
from  sleeplessness  and  rather  prefers  than  otherwise,  to 
keep  his  establishment  open  all  night.     The  police  ap- 
point a  time*  to  close  and  if  he  attempts  to  suit  his  own 


INCESSANT  POLICE    COMPULSION.  149 

pleasure  he  is  threatened  with  punishment.  His  wife 
presents  him  with  a  child.  More  bother.  He  must  regis- 
ter the  fact  at  the  proper  place,  or  else  it  will  go  hard 
with  the  little  one  later.  He  must  also  attend  to  its 
being  vaccinated,  although  he  has  noticed  that  persons 
not  vaccinated  resisted  the  disease,  during  a  small-pox 
epidemic,  while  others  who  had  been  vaccinated,  took  it 
and  died. 

I  hasten  by  the  hundred  petty  annoyances  which 
Hans  meets  with  during  the  year.  He  wanted  to  establish 
an  omnibus  line  to  run  in  the  streets  of  his  native  city;  he 
was  not  allowed  to  do  so  without  a  license.  He  took  a 
fancy  to  a  charming  spot  in  the  public  park,  kept  up  by 
the  money  of  the  city  treasury;  he  was  warned  to  keep  off 
the  grass.  He  undertook  one  day  a  pedestrian  tour 
through  his  province;  a  few  hours  after  he  had  started,  he 
met  a  policeman  who  began  asking  him  all  kinds  c  f  indis- 
crete questions,  about  his  name,  his  business,  his  family, 
trip,  etc.,  and  when  he  replied  somewhat  cavalierly  to 
this  total  stranger  who  had  not  introduced  himself,  with 
the  customary  apology,  he  was  forced  to  undergo  several 
annoying  indignities  before  he  was  at  liberty  to  continue 
his  tour.  A  neighbor  one  day  coolly  appropriated  part  of 
his  garden  and  fenced  it  in  for  his  own  use;  Hans  appealed 
to  the  law;  the  proof  of  the  trespass  was  clear  and  con- 
vincing; the  case  dragged  along  for  months.  He  won  the 
suit,  but  the  defendant  proved  that  he  was  insolvent,  so 
that  although  Hans  got  the  bit  of  his  garden  back  again, 
he  had  lost  in  time  and  money  about  twenty  times  what 
it  was  worth,  to  say  nothing  of  the  vexation,  which  he  did 
not  reckon  in  the  account— because  he  was  so  used  to  it 
from  his  youth  up.  He  saw  in  the  Museum  a  beautiful 
picture  of  the  time  of  the  Renaissance,  the  clothing  of  the 
persons  represented  in  it  appeared  to  him  so  sensible  and 


150  THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

graceful  that  he  had  a  similar  suit  made  for  himself.  When 
he  appeared  in  it  on  the  street  one  Sunday,  the  police 
threatened  him  with  arrest,  unless  he  returned  home  and 
took  off  at  once,  what  they  called  a  masquerade  costume. 
He  found  a  few  congenial  friends  and  concluded  to  form 
with  them  a  club,  to  meet  frequently  and  express  their 
indignation  at  the  existing  conditions  of  the  laws.  The 
police  demanded  at  once  a  list  of  the  members'  names, 
and  after  a  while  forbade  their  future  meetings  on  account 
of  the  political  nature  of  the  club.  Hans  had  become 
somewhat  obstinate  by  this  time  and  he  founded  a  second 
club,  to  be  an  informal  savings  institution  and  mutual 
aid  society;  however  this  was  at  once  interdicted  by 
the  police  because  no  license  had  been  obtained.  Amid 
all  sorts  of  contrary  happenings  Hans  grew  old  and 
gray.  When  he  was  in  a  contented  frame  of  mind,  he 
consoled  himself  by  thinking  how  much  worse  off  the 
Russians  were  in  their  country,  than  he  in  his;  when, 
on  the  contrary,  he  was  disturbed  and  annoyed,  he  dwelt 
upon  the  thought  of  the  degree  of  the  liberty  enjoyed  by 
the  English  and  Americans.  He  believed  this  by  what 
the  newspapers  said;  he  had  no  personal  experience  in  the 
matter.  One  day  his  wife  died.  He  did  not  want  to  lose 
her  even  in  death,  so  he  buried  her  beneath  her  favorite 
tree  in  the  garden.  This  time  he  was  in  a  serious  scrape. 
A  regular  police  thunder-storm  broke  upon  his  devoted 
head.  Burying  a  corpse  on  one's  own  grounds  was  strictly 
forbidden!  He  had  become  liable  to  heavy  penalties,  and 
his  wife  was  dug  up  and  carried  to  the  cemetery  by  the 
authorities. 

Hans  was  now  alone  in  the  world,  he  lost  his  spirit 
and  courage,  his  business  declined  and  soon  he  sank  into 
absolute  poverty.  He  fell  so  low  that  one  evening  he  took 
up  his  position  on  a  street  corner  and  begged  for  alms. 


HANS*  SOLILOQUY.  151 

He  was  at  once  arrested  by  a  policeman.  He  was  taken 
to  the  station  where  he  had  an  instructive  conversation 
with  the  police  commissioner.  "You  know  that  begging 
is  strictly  prohibited,"  exclaimed  the  latter.  "I  know  it  is 
so,  but  I  can  not  understand  the  reason,"  said  Hans,  "I 
was  in  nobody's  way,  troubled  no  one,  I  merely  held  out 
my  hand  silently."  "That  is  idle  talk,  I  can  not  waste  my 
time  listening  to  it.  You  must  go  to  jail  for  eight  days." 
"And  what  shall  I  do,  when  I  am  set  at  liberty  again  ?' 
"That  is  none  of  my  business.  You  must  attend  to  that." 
"I  am  old  and  arn  not  able  to  work.  I  have  nothing.  I 
am  sickly."  "If  you  are  sickly,  go  to  the  hospital!"  ex- 
claimed the  commissioner  impatiently,  but  then  added: 
"No,  you  can  not  go  to  the  hospital  if  you  are  only  ailing. 
You  must  have  a  serious  disease  to  get  in  there."  "I  un- 
derstand," says  Hans,  "such  a  disease  as  a  man  either  dies 
of  soon,  or  if  he  does  not,  recovers  from  in  a  short  time.** 
"You  are  right,"  replied  the  official  and  turned  to  the  next 
comer.  Hans  served  out  his  term  of  imprisonment,  and 
then  was  so  fortunate  as  to  be  admitted  into  a  poor-house. 
Here  he  had  food  and  shelter,  but  the  former  was  bad,  and 
the  latter  rendered  insupportable  by  the  fact  that  he  was 
treated  like  a  criminal  and  a  prisoner.  He  was  obliged 
to  wear  a  sort  of  uniform  which  attracted  attention  and 
ridicule  on  the  street.  He  once  met  a  man  whom  he  had 
known  in  better  days.  He  bowed,  but  the  latter  did  not 
reply  to  his  greeting.  Hans  walked  straight  up  to  him 
and  asked:  "Why  this  contempt?"  "Because  you  did  not 
understand  how  to  follow  the  example  of  respectable 
people  who  have  become  rich,"  replied  the  man  and 
passed  on  quickly,  an  expression  of  disgust  upon  his 
features. 

Hans  grew  more  and  more  melancholy.    All  sorts  of 
dark  thoughts  swarmed  in  his  brain.     One  bright  morning 


<52  THB  POLITICAL  LIE 

he  set  out  for  a  walk,  and  his  whole  life  passed  before 
him  in  imagination;  he  began  to  talk  to  himself  first  in  a 
whisper  and  then  louder  as  he  became  excited:  "Here  I 
am,  seventy  years  old,  and  how  has  it  been  with  me?  I 
have  never  been  myself.     I  have  never  been  allowed  to 
have  a  mind  of  my  own.     As  soon  as  I  formed  a  decision 
and  tried  to  carry  it  out,  the  authorities  interfered.     Un- 
warranted people  have  stuck  their  noses  into  my  most 
private  and  personal  affairs.     I  had  to  pay  attention  and 
respect  to  everybody,  and  nobody  paid  respect  and  atten- 
tion to  me.     Under  the  pretext  of  protecting  the  rights  of 
others,  they  deprived  me  of  every  one  of  my  own,  and 
come  to  think  of  it,  they   deprived  the  others  of  their 
rights  too.     All  my  life  long  I  was  not  allowed  to  do  more 
than  to  play  with  my  dog  unmolested,  and  even  with  him 
I  was  dragged  before  the  courts  by  the  Society  for  the 
Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals,  if  I  ventured  to  whip 
him.     I  can  appreciate  the  reasons  for  my  being  forced 
into  the  army — but  if  enemies  should  invade  and  overrun 
the  country  owing  to  the  lack  of  an  army  to  repulse  them, 
my  private  welfare  would  hardly  suffer  more  than  under 
the  blessed  authorities;  and  also  for  my  being  called  upon 
for  such  heavy  taxes  —  the  police,  which  has  always  had 
its  eye  so  paternally  upon  me,  must  be  paid,  although  it 
was  not  exactly  necessary  to  rate  me  for  a  business  that 
did  not  support  me,  and  to  punish  my  insolvency  by  seiz- 
ure.    But  what  good  were  all  the  other  oppressions  and 
vexations?  What  advantages  did  I  get  from  the  authorities 
for  all  the  sacrifices  of  my  independence  which  they  de- 
manded?   To  be  sure  they  protected  my  property  —  tha£ 
was  an  easy  matter,  for  I  have  none,  and  when  all  that  I 
had,  my  garden,  was  taken  away  from  me,  I  had  to  stand 
the  annoyance  and  pay  for  it  all  myself,  besides.    If  there 
were  no  police  every  one  would  do  exactly  what  he  chose 


INCONV  riXIENCES  VS.  THE  BLESSINGS  OF  CIVILIZATION.  153 

—  well,  what  then?  Then  I  would  have  shot  my  neighbor 
dead,  or  he  me,  and  that  would  have  put  an  end  to  the 
matter.  The  authorities  see  to  it  that  we  have  good 
paved  streets  —  Ugh,  I  don't  know  but  what  I  had  rather 
wade  through  the  mud  in  high  boots  for  ever  than  have 
the  everlasting  police  nuisances  around.  And  may  the 
devil  fly  away  with  the  whole  concern!" 

And  as  Hans  arrived  at  this  point  in  his  monologue, 
he  turned  and  jumped  into  the  river  along  whose  banks 
he  had  been  walking.  But  the  police  were  on  hand  as 
usual,  fished  him  out  and  carried  him  to  the  nearest 
magistrate,  who  condemned  him  to  a  term  of  imprisonment 
for  his  attempted  suicide.  But  Hans  had  taken  cold  in 
the  water;  consumption  set  in,  and,  I  do  not  know  whether 
to  say  fortunately  or  unfortunately,  he  died  in  prison. 
His  death  gave  the  authorities  their  last  chance  for  an 
official  certificate  as  far  as  he  was  concerned. 


II. 

My  poor  Hans  reasoned  like  an  embittered  and  un- 
cultivated man.  He  spoke  of  the  police  authorities  alone, 
because  they  were  the  only  wheels  of  the  machinery  of 
State  that  were  visible  to  him;  he  exaggerated  the  incon- 
veniences of  our  civilization  and  failed  to  appreciate  its 
blessings.  But,  taken  as  a  whole,  he  was  right:  the  re- 
strictions imposed  by  the  State  upon  the  individual,  are 
out  of  all  proportion  to  the  benefits  it  offers  him  in  return. 
The  citizen  resigns  his  independence  only  for  a  certain 
purpose  and  with  the  expectation  of  certain  advantages 
to  be  gained  by  it.  He  supposes  that  the  State  to  whom 
he  has  sacrificed  a  large  part  of  his  rights  as  an  individual, 
will  in  return,  guarantee  the  security  of  his  life  and 
property,  and  apply  the  combined  strength  of  all  to  cer- 


154  THE  POLITICAL  LIK. 

tain  matters,  to  carry  out  certain  undertakings,  which  will 
promote  the  personal  interests  of  each  individual,  but 
which  alone  he  could  neither  have  planned  nor  accom- 
plished. Well  then:  we  must  admit  that  the  State  ful- 
fills these  theoretical  presuppositions  but  very  imperfectly, 
hardly  better  than  the  primitive,  barbarous  communities, 
which  allowed  their  members  an  incomparably  larger 
share  of  individual  liberty  than  the  civilized  State  of 
modern  times.  It  ought  to  ensure  to  us  our  life  and 
property.  This  it  does  not  do,  for  it  can  not  prevent 
wars,  which  cause  the  violent  death  of  a  horribly  large 
number  of  citizens.  Wars  between  civilized  nations  are 
no  rarer  and  no  less  bloody  than  between  savage  races, 
and  with  all  his  laws  and  restrictions  to  liberty,  the  man  of 
our  civilization  does  not  procure  any  greater  security  from 
the  deadly  weapon  of  his  enemy  than  the  barbarian,  unres- 
tricted by  the  blessings  of  a  police  guardianship.  To  find  any 
actual  difference  in  security  to  life  and  limb  between  the  two, 
we  must  be  convinced  that  the  death  that  comes  to  a  man  in 
uniform  from  the  hand  of  a  murderer  also  clothed  in  uni- 
form and  obeying  the  word  of  command,  is  less  of  a  death 
than  that  caused  by  the  tomahawk  of  some  painted  warrior, 
acting  according  to  no  manual  of  regulations.  Some 
isolated  minds  dream  of  the  abolition  of  wars  and  the  sub- 
stitution of  arbitration  in  their  place.  What  will  be,  will 
be.  I  am  not  speaking  of  a  future  that  may  never  arrive, 
but  of  the  present.  All  the  sacrifices  of  his  personal 
liberty  durrng  times  of  peace  do  not  relieve  the  individual 
from  the  necessity  of  defending  his  own  skin  at  critical 
moments,  the  same  as  the  savage  in  the  jungles  of  Africa. 
And  even  aside  from  war,  all  our  reg-ulations  and  restric- 

7  c5 

tions  do  not  protect  the  life  of  the  single  citizen  any  more 
than  the  unrestrained  freedom  of  barbarism.  Murders 
between  the  members  of  a  savage  tribe  occur  no  more 


THE  STATE  PBOTECTS  NEITHER  LIFE  NOH  I'ROI'EKTY.   155 

frequently  than  in  civilized  communities.  Acts  of  violence 
are  almost  always  committed  under  the  influence  of  pas- 
sion, and  this  is  entirely  beyond  the  control  of  our  res- 
training laws.  Passion  is  a  relapse  into  the  primitive  con- 
dition of  mankind.  It  is  the  same  in  the  highly  cultured 
cosmopolitan  as  in  the  Australian  native.  A  man  under 
the  influence  of  passion,  will  commit  violence,  and  kill, 
without  the  slightest  thought  of  the  laws  and  authorities. 
And  it  does  not  benefit  much  the  dead  man  to  have 
his  murderer  arrested  and  punished  for  the  crime — and 
even  this  is  not  always  the  case,  for  the  jury  is  very  apt  to 
acquit  any  one  who  committed  an  act  of  violence  when 
impelled  by  passion  or  emotional  insanity  as  it  is  called 
in  the  court-room.  And  even  this  feeble  and  as  we  have 
seen,  practically  insignificant  consolation,  that  the  mur- 
derer will  be  obliged  to  pay  the  penalty  of  his  crime,  is 
equally  the  right  of  the  savage  and  is  far  more  liable  to 
be  realized  in  his  case,  because  the  vengeance  of  the 
family  and  tribe  is  much  more  difficult  to  escape  from 
than  the  pursuit  of  the  detectives,  notwithstanding  the 
descriptions  and  rewards  published  in  the  newspapers. 
Next  to  the  crimes  caused  by  passion  come  the  cold- 
blooded and  premeditated  crimes.  These  are  decidedly 
more  frequent  in  civilized  than  in  savage  communities. 
They  are  principally  the  work  of  a  certain  class  of  human 
beings  which  owes  its  origin  and  development  to  civili- 
zation alone.  Science  has  proved  that  habitual  criminals 
are  degraded  organizations,  descended  from  drunken  or 
licentious  parents,  and  usually  cursed  with  epilepsy  or 
other  diseases  of  the  nervous  system.  The  extreme 
poverty  of  the  lowest  classes  in  the  large  cities  stunts 
both  the  physical  and  mental  growth  to  such  an  extent 
that  the  pathological  condition  of  habitual  criminality 
ensues.  All  the  laws  in  the  world  are  powerless  to  prev- 


156  THE  POLITICAL  LIE. 

ent  the  crimes  which  are  the  consequences  of  this  circum- 
stance due  directly  to  civilization,  and  the  presence  of 
these  thieves  and  murderer-robbers  in  the  midst  of  our 
conventional  well-regulated  society,  is  a  menace  whose 
gravity  can  not  be  over-estimated. 

We  have  about  the  same  measure  of  security  in  re- 
gard to  the  possession  of  our  property,  as  of  life.  In  spite 
of  all  our  laws  and  regulations  we  are  robbed  and  plun- 
dered, sometimes  straight  from  our  pockets,  sometimes  inr 
directly,  by  swindles  of  various  kinds,  large  and  small,  in- 
dividually and  as  a  people.  What  protection  have  we 
against  the  founder  of  swindling  enterprises  who  steals 
the  savings  of  the  public,  or  against  the  speculators,  the 
bulls  and  bears,  who  by  some  manipulation  of  the  markets 
destroy  or  at  least  diminish,  the  fortunes  of  thousands? 
Does  not  the  man  of  civilization  whose  property  is  in 
paper,  does  not  he  lose  his  property  by  these  crimes  just 
as  completely  as  the  barbarian  whose  flocks  and  herds 
are  driven  off?  The  reply  is  made  to  my  questions:  we 
can  protect  ourselves  against  the  swindler  and  specu- 
lator; no  one  compels  us  to  put  our  money  in  the  hands 
of  the  one,  nor  to  buy  the  artificially  inflated  stock  of  the 
other.  To  which  I  reply:  Certainly  we  t.n.  The  cau- 
tious man,  the  reasoning  man  can  do  so.  The  multitudes 
can  not.  And  if  it  comes  to  self-protection  of  what  use 
is  the  law?  Of  what  use  are  our  sacrifices  of  liberty  and 
our  taxes?  Even  the  savage  if  he  has  strong  dogs,  stout 
weapons  and  servants  enough,  if  he  is  vigilant  and  strong, 
can  successfully  protect  his  property  and  that  without  any 
police.  And  the  member  of  our  civilized  society  who  has 
not  sagacity,  which  is  one  kind  of  strength  and  vigilance, 
will  lose  his  savings  out  of  his  chest  and  his  purse  from 
his  pocket,  notwithstanding  the  countless  numbers  of  pens 
scratching  away  on  stamped  paper  all  day  long  in  the 


DISPROPORTION  OF  TAXES  TO  BENEFITS  RECEIVED.   15? 

official  bureaus.  And  here  is  another  point  to  be  regarded. 
The  man  of  civilization  has  not  only  to  look  after  his  own 
protection,  like  the  barbarian,  but  has  morever  to  offer  up 
continual  sacrifices  of  his  possessions  to  pay  for  the  pro- 
tection that  the  State  ostensibly  affords  him,  but  which  is 
adequate  only  in  theory,  and  these  sacrifices  are  often 
more  considerable  than  the  total  amount  for  which  pro- 
tection might  be  required  in  case  of  need.  Of  course  the 
man  of  wealth  pays  over  to  the  common- wealth  much  less 
than  the  amount  remaining  to  him1,  but  millionaires  are 
the  exception  everywhere.  The  rule  is  that  the  great 
majority  of  people  in  every  country  are  poor,  even  in  the 
most  favored  lands,  or  at  best,  only  possess  the  neces- 
saries of  life.  But  every  one,  even  the  poor  man,  pays 
taxes,  and  to  such  an  amount  that  he  would  be  comfort- 
ably off  at  the  close  of  his  life,  if  he  had  been  able  to  re- 
tain for  himself  the  fruits  of  his  labor  which  he  has  been 
obliged  to  pay  over  to  the  State.  That  the  barbarian 
may  lose  his  property  is  only  possible,  that  the  man  of  our 
civilization  is  deprived  of  his  by  the  State,  by  means  of 
direct  and  indirect  taxation,  is  certain.  And  if  anything 
remains  to  the  latter  after  his  taxes  etc.,  are  paid,  it  can 
be  stolen  or  swindled  away  from  him,  unless  he  guards  it 
with  the  same  care  as  the  barbarian  does  his  property,  for 
which  he  has  had  no  tithes  to  pay.  The  case  of  the  civilized 
man  is  therefore  like  that  of  the  young  fellow  in  the  anecdote, 
who  enquired  of  the  boat's  captain  what  the  price  of  pas- 
sage between  Strasburg  and  Basle  would  be,  and  received 
the  answer:  "Four  gulden  on  the  boat,  but  only  two  gul- 
den if  you'll  help  draw  the  boat  on  the  tow-path."  The 
case  of  the  man  of  our  civilization  is  even  worse  than  this, 
for  he  is  not  allowed  the  alternative  of  choice;  he  is 
obliged  to  help  draw  OP  the  tow-path  and  pay  his  two 
gulden  besides. 


158  THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

There  remains  the  last  aim  of  the  State:  the  combin- 
ation of  the  powers  of  all  to  execute  certain  works  for 
the  benefit  of  the  individual,  which  the  individual  alone 
could  not  accomplish.  This  task  is  fulfilled  by  the  States 
it  must  be  acknowledged.  But  even  this  is  performed  in 
an  offensive  and  imperfect  way.  The  State  as  at  present 
organized,  is  a  machine  which  works  with  an  enormous 
waste  of  power.  Only  a  small  and  constantly  diminishing 
portion  of  the  original  force,  obtained  at  such  an  incredi- 
bly high  cost,  remains  for  actual  production;  the  rest  is 
lost  in  overcoming  the  internal  friction  or  else  escapes  in 
the  smoke  and  noise  of  the  steam  whistle.  According 
to  the  way  in  which  all  the  European  states  of  today  are 
governed,  the  sums  exacted  from  the  citizens  are  squan- 
dered on  foolish,  frivolous  and  criminal  undertakings.  The 
whims  of  certain  men,  the  selfish  interests  of  certain  small 
minorities,  determine  only  too  frequently  the  purposes  to 
which  the  efforts  of  the  community  shall  be  directed. 
Hence  the  individual  citizen  labors  and  bleeds  so  that 
wars  may  be  carried  on  which  put  an  end  to  his  life  or  his 
prosperity,  that  fortresses,  palaces,  railroads,  harbors  or 
canals  may  be  built,  from  which  neither  he  nor  nine 
tenths  of  the  nation  will  ever  derive  the  slightest  benefit, 
so  that  new  offices  may  be  created  to  make  the  machinery 
of  State  more  complicated,  to  increase  the  friction  between 
its  wheels,  in  which  he  will  lose  still  more  of  his  time 
and  leave  still  another  piece  of  his  liberty,  so  that  office 
holders  may  be  paid  high  salaries,  who  have  no  other  aim 
in  life  than  to  lead  an  ornamental  existence  at  his  expense 
and  lay  another  burden  xipon  his  shoulders,  in  short,  he 
spends  his  life  laboring  and  bleeding  to  add  with  his  own 
hands  to  the  weight  of  his  yoke  and  the  number  of  his 
chains  and  to  create  the  possibility  for  new  demands  upon 
his  labor  and  blood.  Only  in  very  small  states  or  in 


RKCKLISS  HXPENDITURft  OP  THB  REVENUE  159 

tiiose  of  extensive  decentralization  and  self  government, 
are  the  results  of  the  taxation  of  the  people  free  from  un- 
justifiable waste.  Such  communities  resemble  in  their 
constitution  and  conditions  of  existence,  the  co-operative 
societies  in  which  each  member  can  easily  superintend 
the  application  of  his  contributions,  prevent  unnecessary 
expenditure,  oppose  unpromising  undertakings  and  cause 
them  to  be  abandoned  in  time.  Every  benefit  and  every 
loss  is  felt  directly  by  each  member,  the  former  compen- 
sates him  for  his  sacrifices  and  he  is  warned  by  the  latter 
to  take  precautionary  measures  against  their  reoccurrence. 
In  such  communities  it  is  certainly  difficult  to  procure 
funds  to  carry  on  any  ideal  or  distant  enterprises  which 
do  not  promise  appreciable  benefits  or  pleasures  to  each 
individual  member,  but  it  is  still  more  difficult  to  use  the 
power  of  the  whole  to  satisfy  the  caprices  of  one,  or  to 
inveigle  money  from  the  members  to  buy  the  rods  with 
which  they  are  to  be  beaten. 

To  condense  the  foregoing  details:  the  life  and 
property  of  the  individual  are  no  more  protected  by  the 
modern  complicated  machinery  of  State,  by  the  everlasting 
writing,  recording,  office  holding,  permits  and  injunctions 
than  entirely  without  the  whole  intricate  apparatus.  For 
all  the  sacrifices  of  blood,  money  and  liberty  offered 
to  the  State  by  the  individual  citizen,  he  receives  in  re- 
turn hardly  any  other  actual  benefits  than  the  administra- 
tion of  justice,  which  is  costly  and  tedious  out  of  all  pro- 
portion to  what  it  should  be,  and  public  instruction, 
which  can  not  be  said  to  lie  accessible  to  all  in  the  same 
degree.  In  order  to  have  these  advantages,  hardly  any 
one  of  the  restrictions  of  individual  liberty  and  independ- 
ence are  strictly  necessary.  The  pretext  that  the  liberty 
of  the  one  is  only  restricted  out  of  regard  for  the  rights  of 
others,  is  a  bad  joke;  this  pretended  regard  does  not  pre- 


160  THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

vent  the  oppression  of  the  individual  and  deprives  all  of 
the  larger  part  of  their  natural  liberty  of  action. 

The  law  exerts  upon  every  one  alike  the  same  steady 
and  certain  pressure,  which  without  the  law,  would  be 
only  exerted  in  exceptional  cases,  by  single  violent 
natures.  It  is  true  that  in  our  present  civilization  the 
average  duration  of  life  of  the  individual  is  longer,  his 
health  better  protected,  the  level  of  general  morality 
higher,  the  common  existence  more  peaceful  and  deeds  of 
violence,  except  those  committed  by  habitual  and  heredi- 
tary criminals,  rarer  than  in  a  state  of  barbarism.  But 
these  facts  are  in  no  way  the  results  of  the  bureaus  and 
their  regulations,  but  the  natural  consequences  of  the 
higher  cultivation  and  better  judgment  of  the  people. 
The  citizen  in  the  chains  with  which  he  is  loaded  down  by 
the  State,  is  obliged  to  rely  upon  himself  for  protection 
as  much  as  the  free  barbarian,  but  is  less  skillful  in  it  than 
the  latter,  because  he  has  forgotten  from  want  of  practice, 
how  to  look  out  for  himself,  because  he  has  no  longer  the 
proper  sense  for  the  appreciation  of  his  near  and  distant 
interests,  because  from  his  earliest  years  he  is  accustomed 
to  bear  with  an  oppression  and  compulsion  against  which 
the  savage  would  protest  even  at  the  expense  of  his  life, 
because  the  State  has  brought  him  up  in  the  idea  that  the 
government  officials  are  to  do  the  thinking  for  him  in  all 
cases,  because  the  law  has  broken  the  elasticity  of  his 
character,  crushed  out  every  power  of  resistance  by  its 
constant  pressure  and  brought  him  down  to  such  a  point 
that  the  oppression  of  the  State  has  ceased  to  be  in- 
justice in  his  eyes. 

It  is  not  true  that  all  our  existing  police  regulations 
are  needed  to  protect  our  life  and  property.  In  the  mining 
camps  of  the  West  and  in  Australia,  the  individuals  took 
their  protection  into  their  own  hands,  forming  the  so- 


COMMUNITIES  WITHOUT  TAXES  AND  POLICE.  161 

Galled  "Vigilance  Committees",  and  the  most  model  order 
prevailed  without  any  official  machinery.  It  is  not  true 
that  all  our  legal  squabblings  and  janglings  are  needed  to 
have  justice  properly  administered.  In  those  primitive 
communities  to  which  I  refer,  a  public  and  private  right 
was  recognized,  which  ensured  to  the  first  possessor  his 
legal  title  to  his  "claim"  and  to  all  the  fruits  of  his  labor, 
and  this  without  courts,  magistrates  and  records,  due  solely 
to  the  common  sentiment  of  what  is  equitable  and  proper, 
which  civilization  has  developed  in  mankind.  These  were 
the  circumstances  in  those  camps  formed  of  the  roughest, 
most  passionate  and  undisciplined  individuals  of  all  na- 
tions. And  the  great  majority  of  humanity,  the  gentle, 
the  peaceable,  the  quiet-loving  members  of  society,  do 
they  require  these  everlasting  leading-strings?  If  nine 
tenths  of  the  existing  laws  and  regulations,  courts  and 
magistrates,  decrees  and  records  were  entirely  done  away 
with,  the  security  in  regard  to  life  and  property  would 
remain  the  same  as  at  present,  every  human  being  would 
continue  to  enjoy  his  rights  unmolested,  not  one  of  the 
genuine  advantages  of  civilization  would  be  diminished 
in  the  slightest,  and  yet  the  individual  would  acquire  by 
it  a  liberty  of  action  unknown  before,  he  would  appreciate 
and  live  up  to  his  individuality  with  a  delightful  inten- 
sity of  which  he  can  now  form  no  conception,  hemmed  in 
as  he  is  on  all  sides  by  the  present  inherited  conditions  of 
existence.  Perhaps  this  emancipation  might  cause  him 
at  first  uneasiness  and  alarm,  such  as  a  bird  born  in  cap- 
tivity, might  experience  if  the  cage  door  were  left  open ;  it 
must  first  learn  to  spread  its  wings,  conquer  its  dread  of 
space,  and  experiment  until  it  has  confidence  and  courage 
in  every  fibre  of  its  being.  But  on  the  other  hand,  the 
barbarian  accustomed  to  untrammelled  self-control  and 
self-guidance  could  not  conform  himself  without  constant 


162  THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

and  acute  suffering  to  a  life  in  which  he  would  feel  a  hand 
upon  his  shoulder,  an  eye  fixed  upon  his  face  and  an 
order  resounding  in  his  ear  all  the  time,  continually 
forced  onward  by  outside,  foreign  impulses,  continually 
obliged  to  obey  a  foreign  will — this  life  of  external  con- 
trol with  its  perpetual  licenses,  would  kill  him  in  a  short 
time  probably. 

Is  this  condition  which  I  recommend  as  desirable,  is 
it  anarchy?  Only  an  absent-minded  or  superficial  reader 
could  have  deduced  this  conclusion  from  my  preceding 
remarks.  Anarchy,  the  absence  of  all  government,  is  a 
creation  of  certain  minds,  incapable  of  correct  obser- 
vation. As  soon  as  even  two  human  beings  settle  down 
to  dwell  together,  a  government  is  necessarily  formed, 
that  is,  forms  and  regulations  of  intercourse  and  behavior, 
consideration  and  subordination,  become  necessary.  The 
natural  condition  of  humanity  is  not  that  of  an  amorphous 
aggregation  of  matter,  that  is,  without  crystallization  in 
its  particles,  but  exactly  the  reverse,  a  mass  whose  atoms 
assume  invariably  certain  regular  forms  owing  to  their 
inherent  power  of  attraction.  In  every  mixed  mass  of 
human  beings,  forming  an  apparent  social  chaos,  a  state 
is  sure  to  be  organizing  itself,  as  crystals  are  sure  to  be 
developed  immediately  in  any  solution  of  crystallizable 
matter.  The  rational  mind  therefore  does  not  demand 
anarchy,  that  is  utterly  inconceivable,  but  an  autonomy, 
an  oligarchy,  a  government  of  and  for  self,  of  limited  ex- 
tent, with  the  radical  simplification  of  the  present  machin- 
ery of  government,  the  suppression  of  all  unnecessary 
wheels,  the  liberation  of  the  individual  from  purposeless 
compulsion  and  the  limitation  of  the  demands  of  the  com- 
munity upon  the  citizen  to  that  which  is  obviously  indis 
pensable  to  the  fulfillment  of  its  duties.  The  individual 
will  thus  be  freed  from  what  Herbert  Spencer  3»lls  ''The 


FISCALI8M.  163 

Coming  Slavery,"  while  retaining  all  the  advantages  civil- 
ization has  to  offer  him. 

Even  in  these  ideal  circumstances  the  citizen  would 
be  obliged  to  work  for  the  community,  in  other  words, 
pay  taxes,  but  the  public  assessments  would  lose  their 
characteristic  of  extortion  which  makes  them  so  odious 
now.  We  make  no  resistance  when  called  upon  to  pay 
for  our  loaves  of  bread,  our  tickets  to  the  theatre  and  our 
subscriptions  to  clubs  and  societies,  at  the  utmost  we  regret 
that  it  is  not  always  easy  to  make  up  the  sum  total.  Why 
is  there  no  resistance  in  this  case?  Because  we  know  that 
we  receive  the  value  of  what  we  pay  out;  because  we  can 
not  feel  that  we  are  being  robbed.  When  a  government 
is  so  simple  in  its  construction  that  every  citizen  knows 
all  about  its  purposes,  can  supervise  its  work  and  has  a 
voice  in  the  direction  of  its  energy,  then  he  looks  upon 
the  taxes  he  pays  as  an  expenditure  for  which  he  receives 
a  direct  return.  He  knows  what  lu  is  getting  with  every 
penny  of  his  tax-money,  and  the  evident  equitableness  of 
such  a  transaction  precludes  the  possibility  of  discontent. 
But  in  the  State  as  at  present  organized,  the  taxes  are 
necessarily  odious  impositions;  not  only  because  they  are 
everywhere  far  higher  than  they  ought  to  be,  on  account 
of  the  enormous  expense  of  running  the  governmental 
machine  owing  to  its  defective  construction,  but  also 
because  they  are  founded  upon  and  surrounded  by  in- 
justice in  every  form,  due  to  the  historical  organization  of 
society  and  its  blundering  laws,  and  principally  owing  to 
the  fact  that  the  expenditure  of  the  public  funds  derived 
from  taxation,  is  regulated  by  Fiscalism  and  not  by  rational 
common  sense  for  the  benefit  of  the  State.  By  Fiscalism 
I  mean  the  organized  system  of  plundering  the  people, 
getting  the  utmost  out  of  them,  ostensibly  for  their  own 
future  benefit,  without  the  slightest  coikBueration  of  the 


164  THS  POLITICAL  LIB. 

true  rational  purpose  of  the  State  and  its  political  results  to 
the  individual.  Fiscalism  does  not  ask:  "What  sacrifices 
are  indispensable  to  carry  on  the  legitimate  and  necessary 
functions  of  the  State!"  but:  "How  can  we  manage  things 
so  as  to  get  the  largest  possible  revenue  out  of  the 
people?"  It  does  not  study  and  enquire:  "How  can  we 
protect  best  the  interests  of  the  individual  without  allow- 
ing the  community  to  suffer  by  our  indulgence?"  but: 
"In  what  way  can  we  revenue  drivers  get  at  the  money  of 
the  people  with  the  very  least  expenditure  of  mental 
energy,  attention  and  consideration  for  others?"  The 
modern  conception  of  a  State  is  an  arrangement  to  in- 
crease the  well-being  of  the  individual;  the  feudal  con- 
ception on  the  contrary,  sees  in  the  individual  only  a  slave 
to  increase  the  glory  and  power  of  the  State.  Fiscalism 
is  based  upon  this  latter  conception.  In  its  eyes  the  State 
is  the  pre-existing  and  natural  ruler,  the  citizen  the  later 
arrival  and  the  natural  object  to  be  ruled.  The  taxes 
are  not  an  expense  which  the  citizen«voluntarily  assumes, 
voluntarily  pays  and  for  which  he  expects  to  receive 
certain  benefits  in  return,  but  a  tribute,  such  as  one  would 
pay  to  a  third  person,  and  for  which  the  third  person,  the 
hideous  Moloch,  State,  gives  nothing  in  return  but  a  re- 
ceipt. We  feel  that  we  are  members  of  a  free  combination 
for  the  attainment  of  certain  common  ends.  Fiscalism 
recognizes  in  us  merely  slaves  of  the  State.  We  call  our- 
selves citizens,  Fiscalism  calls  us  subjects.  The  difference 
between  the  two  points  of  view  is  expressed  in  full  in 
these  words. 

Fiscalism  is  a  necessary  consequence  of  the  his- 
torical development  of  the  system  of  taxation.  There 
were  no  assessments  in  primitive  communities.  The  chief 
of  the  tribe  paid  his  necessarily  higher  expenses  out  of 
his  larger  income,  in  wars  each  man  capable  of  bear- 


ORIGIN  OF  F1SCALISM.  165 

xiig  arms  supplied  his  own  necessities  and  the  priest 
alone  received  contributions  from  the  people.  The  State 
had  no  needs,  consequently  it  required  nothing  from 
those  belonging  to  it.  But  this  state  of  things  soon 
changed  everywhere,  either  owing  to  the  oriental  des- 
potism that  arose  from  the  acceptation  of  the  fiction  of  the 
divine  origin  of  the  person  and  power  of  the  king,  or  else 
from  the  subjugation  of  the  people  by  some  alien  con- 
quering race.  Tn  both  cases  the  mass  of  the  people  be- 
came a  drove  of  slaves,  the  personal  property  of  the  king 
or  of  the  conquerors,  and  they  were  obliged  to  pay  taxes, 
not  for  any  state  purpose,  but  merely  to  fill  the  money 
chests  of  their  masters,  who  did  not  feel  called  upon  to  do 
anything  in  return  for  the  people,  but  accepted  the 
revenue  as  they  did  their  income  from  their  lands  or  herds 
of  cattle.  Free  races  in  those  days  looked  upon  taxation 
as  a  disgrace,  a  token  of  servitude,  and  many  centuries  of 
hard  pressure  were  required  before  the  Germanic  races, 
for  instance,  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  pay  the  taxes 
levied  upon  them,  resembling  those  they  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  exact  at  the  point  of  the  sword  from  the  nations 
they  had  subdued.  The  fiction  that  the  citizens  are  bond- 
men, obliged  to  work  first  for  their  owner  the  king,  has 
been  the  foundation  for  the  rights  of  the  State  ever  since 
the  Middle  Ages,  as  also  for  the  relations  between  the 
subject  and  the  ruler,  who  in  his  person  represents  the 
entire  State.  This  fiction  is  still  accepted  in  our  times; 
and  in  the  form  of  Fiscalism  we  find  it  prominent  in  our 
modern  State,  with  all  its  constitutionalism  and  Parlia- 
ments, supposed  to  embody  the  sovereignty  of  the  people 
The  same  fiction  is  also  the  foundation  upon  which 
rests  the  organization  of  the  system  of  public  offices  and 
the  positions  of  the  officials  in  regard  to  the  citizen.  Ac- 
cording to  the  enlightened  conception  of  the  State,  the 


166  THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

public  official  is  an  agent  of  the  people,  who  receives  his 
support,   his    authority   and   his   position   directly    from 
the  people.     He  must  consider  himself  the  servant  of  the 
community  according  to  this  conception,  feel  his  responsi- 
bility and  constantly  keep  in  remembrance  the  fact  that 
he  is  installed  to  attend  to  certain  interests  of  the  indi- 
vidual members  of  the  community,  who  can  not  attend  to 
them  personally  with  the  same  convenience  and  certainty. 
He  ought  never  to  forget  that  he  is  not  theoretically  in- 
dispensable to  the  community  any  more  than  a  servant  to 
a  household;  each  individual  could  if  necessary,  black  his 
own  boots  and  fetch  the  water  for  himself,  and  in  the 
same  way  could  attend  personally  to  the  administration  of 
the  government,  so  that  a  recognition  ot  the  advantages 
attending  the  division  of  labor  is  the  only  cause  of  the 
existence  of  the  office  holding  public.     But  in  reality  the 
office  holder  considers  himself  the  master,  not  the  servant 
of  the  public.     He  believes  that  he  owes  his  authority  not 
to  the  people  but  to  the  ruler,  he  may  be  either  king  or 
president  of  a  republic.     He  looks  upon  himself  as  the 
dispenser   of  a   part  of  the  supreme  governing  power. 
Hence  he  demands  from  the  citizens  the  respect  and  sub- 
servience which  they  owe  to  the  principle  of  sovereign 
authority.     The  public  functionary  is  a  more  developed 
form  of  the  steward  or  overseer,  considered  historically. 
The  clerk  growling  at  the  citizens  summoned  to  his  office 
is  the  historical  descendant  of  the  commandant  or  overseer 
appointed  by  a  tyrant  of  the  Dark  Ages  to  superintend 
his  people  of  slaves,  and  to  keep  them  in  a   becoming 
state  of  obedience  by  his  body  guard  of  warriors,  with  the 
whip  and  the  goad.  As  the  public  functionary  is  a  fragment 
of  the  royal  grace-of-Godness,  he  lays  claim  to  some  of  its 
infallibility.     His  position  is  below  that  of  the  head  of  the 
State,  but  it  is  above  that  of  the  masses  to  be  governed. 


MANDARINISM.  167 

They  are  the  flocK,  tne  ruler  is  the  shepherd  and  he  is  the 
shepherd's  dog.  He  can  bark  and  bite  and  the  sheep 
must  bear  it.  And  what  is  the  most  remarkable  of  all: 
the  sheep  do  bear  it!  The  average  citizen,  such  a  man  as  my 
Hans,  accepts  without  question  the  pretensions  of  the 
office  holder.  He  admits  his  right  x>  command  and  as- 
sumes the  duty  of  obedience  upon  himself.  He  comes  to 
the  public  bureau  not  as  to  a  place  where  he  could  insist 
upon  what  was  due  to  him,  but  as  if  he  had  come  to  beg 
for  a  favor.  Besides  it  would  be  very  foolish  of  him  to 
rebel  against  these  paradoxical  circumstances  for,  in  any 
discussion  or  contest  with  a  public  functionary,  the  latter 
would  be  sure  to  come  out  victorious  in  the  end,  and  even 
in  the  most  favorable  case,  the  citizen  would  be  exposing 
his  interests  during  the  continuation  of  the  contest,  to  de- 
lays, hindrances  and  disadvantages  of  all  kinds.  Fiscalism 
is  rounded  into  a  whole  by  Mandarinism,  and  both  are 
logical  deductions  from  the  conception  of  a  sovereign  by 
the  grace  of  God  and  a  people  subject  by  the  curse  of 
God.  The  laws  are  made  today  the  same  as  centuries  ago 
to  favor  Fiscalism  and  Mandarinism.  Out  of  a  hundred 
laws  decreed  with  or  without  the  co-operation  of  the 
people,  as  the  case  may  be,  ninety  nine  are  sure  to  have  for 
their  object  not  the  increased  liberty  of  the  citizens,  nor 
the  amelioration  of  their  conditions  of  life,  but  improved 
facilities  for  the  bailiffs  and  sheriffs  in  the  exercise  of 
their  authority.  The  people  are  subjected  to  a  thousand 
annoyances  that  the  public  functionaries  may  have  an 
easier  time.  We  are  designated  by  letters  and  numbers 
like  so  many  cattle,  so  that  we  can  be  counted  and  com- 
pared with  less  trouble.  We  are  all  punished  in  ad- 
vance by  suspicious  restrictions  because  one  of  us  might 
some  time  step  over  the  line.  Shall  I  mention  an  example? 
All  merchants  and  bankers  are  compelled  by  law  to  keep 


168  THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

their  sets  of  books  in  a  certain  prescribed  way.  "Why? 
Because  some  one  of  them  might  plead  bankruptcy 
fraudulently  and  the  examiner  would  only  be  able  to  dis- 
cover the  fraud  by  considerable  mental  exertion,  unless 
the  books  were  kept  according  to  a  certain  formula  and 
everything  set  down  in  its  proper  place.  If  there  were  no 
books  at  all  the  examiner  would  have  a  hard  time  finding 
his  way  through  the  wilderness  of  business  memoranda. 
In  order  to  save  him  this  trouble  in  case  of  a  bankruptcy, 
the  law  deprives  a  hundred  other  merchants  who  would 
never  think  of  defrauding  their  creditors,  of  their  freedom 
of  action.  Each  one  of  us  is  obliged  to  report  his  coming 
and  going,  at  least  in  the  large  cities,  to  the  police.  Why? 
Because  one  of  us  might  happen  to  commit  a  crime  some 
day,  in  which  case  the  police  would  be  obliged  to  hunt 
him  up.  In  order  to  save  themselves  this  trouble,  for 
which  by  the  way,  they  are  hired  and  paid,  they  oblige  us 
to  take  upon  ourselves  this  constant  trouble  of  reporting 
our  whereabouts  to  them.  I  could  give  a  hundred  such 
examples  if  I  were  not  afraid  of  their  monotony.  At  the 
same  time  the  restrictions  thus  imposed  by  the  State  upon 
the  citizens  miss  their  aim  completely.  The  laws  oppress 
those  only  who  nave  nc  idea  of  resisting  them;  while  on 
the  other  hand,  they  have  never  prevented  the  consum- 
mation of  any  unlawful  act  by  those  who  have  determined 
to  submit  no  longer  to  their  control.  The  bigamist  com- 
mits his  crime  :B  spite  of  the  formalities  which  render 
marriage  so  difficult,  expensive  and  surrounded  by  such 
ceremonies  to  the  honest  man.  The  robber  has  his  knife 
and  his  revolver  in  his  pocket  in  spite  of  the  laws  for- 
bidding the  peaceable  citizens  to  carry  weapons.  And  it 
is  the  same  in  every  thing.  It  is  the  same  system  as 
Herod's  although  less  tragical,  who  ordered  all  the  chil- 
dren to  be  killed  because  there  was  a  possibility  that  one 


POSITION  OF  PUBLIC  FUNCTIONABY.  169 

of  them  might  grow  up  to  oe  a  pretender  to  his  throne 
and  allowed  the  very  one  to  escape  the  slaughter  who 
was  to  become  dangerous  to  him. 

The  philosophical  conception  of  the  State  has  altered, 
the  relation  of  the  citizen  to  the  State  is  theoretically  that 
of  a  member  of  a  society  where  all  have  equal  rights, 
every  one  of  the  constitutions  which  have  been  formed 
since  1789,  being  based  upon  the  principle  of  the 
sovereignty  of  the  people,  but  practically  the  machinery 
of  the  State  has  remained  the  same.  It  works  today  just 
as  it  did  in  the  darkest  times  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  if 
its  pressure  appears  somewhat  lighter  upon  the  individual 
it  is  only  on  account  of  its  wearing  smoother.  The  tacit 
presumption  upon  which  all  our  laws  and  regulations  are 
based  is  now  as  much  as  ever  before,  that  the  citizen  is 
the  personal  property  of  the  sovereign,  or  at  least  of  that 
impersonal  phantom  the  State,  which  has  inherited  all  the 
privileges  of  tbe  ancient  despots,  the  public  functionaries 
being  its  visible  incarnation.  The  government  official  is 
not  the  employe1  of  tbe  people,  but  the  agent  of  the 
powers  of  the  State,  consequently  the  enemy,  overseer 
and  jailor  of  the  people.  The  laws  arc  intended  to  give 
the  official  the  opportunity  to  defend  the  interests  of  his 
real  or  ideal  master  the  monarch  or  the  State,  against  the 
people,  which  is  credited  with  a  perpetual  tendency  to  rid 
itself  of  its  task-master.  This  is  the  only  possible 
explanation  of  the  respectful  consideration  and  the  pro- 
minence conceded  to  the  autocratic  office  holder  to .  this 
very  day.  He  is  not  able  to  dazzle  the  public  by  his  rich 
relations,  nor  by  the  brilliancy  and  luxury  of  his  manner 
of  living;  neither  can  he  compel  the  admiration  of  culti- 
vated minds  by  his  higher  culture  or  greater  talents,  the 
utilitarians  can  not  consider  his  employment  any  more 
useful  than  the  class  of  direct  producers,  the  farmers, 


170  THE  POLITICAL  LIE. 

artisans,  artists  or  scientists.  But  if  the  position  of  a 
public  functionary  does  not  mean  the  possession  of  a  larger 
income,  greater  talents  nor  especially  capability,  why  is 
it  that  a  government  office  confers  upon  its  incumbent  an 
importance  and  respect  beyond  that  of  almost  any  other 
position?  Why?  Because  the  official  is  a  part  of  the 
sovereign  authority,  which  the  people,  unconsciously  to 
themselves,  from  sheer  stress  of  custom,  regard  as  some- 
thing mysterious,  supernatural,  awe-inspiring  and  terrible 
The  grace  of  God  in  which  the  sovereign  basks,  illumin- 
ates also  his  employes;  a  few  drops  of  the  sacred  oil  with 
which  the  king  is  anointed  at  his  coronation,  fall  upon  the 
brow  of  the  government  official.  This  phenomenon  takes 
place  even  in  those  countries  which  have  no  monarch  nor 
coronation,  nor  any  grace  of  God.  It  has  become  a  reflex 
action  of  the  people's  mind. 


III. 

And  now  what  about  representative  legislation  ?  Does 
it  not  return  to  the  individual  the  liberty  of  which  he  has 
been  deprived  by  Fiscalism  and  Mandarinism  and  the 
laws  passed  in  their  interests?  Does  it  not  change  the 
feudal  subject  into  the  modern  citizen?  Does  it  not  place 
in  the  hands  of  every  individual  the  right  to  govern  and 
decide  the  destinies  of  the  State,  in  conjunction  with  the 
rest?  Is  not  the  voter  on  the  day  when  his  representative 
is  elected,  a  real  sovereign,  exercising  even  if  indirectly, 
the  old  royal  privileges  of  appointing  employes,  passing 
laws,  levying  taxes  and  deciding  upon  the  foreign  policy 
of  the  Government?  In  short,  is  not  the  ballot  the  all- 
powerful  weapon  with  which  our  poor  Hans  for  instance, 
can  humble  the  pride  of  the  government  official,  that 
even  Shakespeare  complained  of,  and  by  its  assistance  is 


THEORY  OP  REPRESENTATIVE  LEGISLATION  171 

he  not  able  to  attack  and  demolish  all  the  regulations 
which  reduce  him  to  slavery? 

Certainly.  Representative  legislation  accomplishes 
all  this.  But  unfortunately,  only  in  theory.  In  practice 
it  is  a  lie  as  enormous  as  all  the  other  phases  of  our  present 
state  and  social  life.  I  must  not  omit  to  mention  that 
the  lies  by  which  we  are  surrounded  are  of  two  kinds. 
Some  wear  the  mask  of  the  past,  the  rest  the  mask  of  the 
future.  Some  are  forms  which  had  once  a  substance — the 
others,  forms  which  have  as  yet  no  substance  at  all.  Relig- 
ion and  the  monarchical  form  of  government  are  lies 
because  we  allow  the  external  forms  to  remain  although 
we  are  convinced  of  the  absurdity  of  the  empty  sham. 
Representative  legislation,  Parliamentism,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  a  lie  because  as  yet  it  is  only  an  external  form, 
the  internal  organization  of  the  State  remaining  com- 
pletely unchanged.  In  the  former  case  it  is  new  wine  in 
old  bottles  and  in  the  latter,  old  dregs  in  new  vessels. 

Representative  legislation  is  the  machinery  by  which 
the  principle  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  people  be- 
comes action.  Strictly  according  to  theory,  the  entire 
people  should  assemble  in  an  immense  mass  meeting, 
make  its  own  laws  and  appoint  its  employes,  thus  expres- 
sing its  will  directly  and  carrying  it  immediately  into 
action,  without  the  loss  of  power  and  the  modifications  it 
is  sure  to  undergo  as  an  inevitable  consequence  of  re- 
peated transmissions.  But  as  civilization  increases,  it  has 
a  tendency  to  group  the  individuals  into  larger  and  larger 
communities,  to  unite  into  one  nation  all  those  speaking 
the  same  language,  the  entire  race,  and  to  enlarge  the 
confines  of  the  States  to  immense  proportions.  Con- 
sequently the  direct  practice  of  self-government  by  as- 
sembling  the  entire  people,  has  already  become  a  matewal 
^possibility  in  by  far  the  largest  number  of  countries, 


172  THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

and  in  those  remaining,  it  is  only  a  question  of  time. 
Hence  the  people  are  obliged  to  transfer  their  power  to  a 
small  number  of  delegates  whom  they  authorize  to  act  for 
them  and  exercise  their  rights  of  self-government.  These 
delegates  in  turn  are  obliged  to  transfer  the  power  a 
second  time,  as  they  can  not  govern  directly,  and  they 
authorize  a  still  smaller  number  of  chosen  men,  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Cabinet,  who  in  fact,  prepare  and  administer 
the  laws,  levy  and  collect  taxes,  appoint  employes  and  de- 
cide upon  peace  or  war.  In  order  to  have  the  people  re- 
tain its  sovereignty,  in  order  to  have  its  will  continue  to 
be  the  sole  arbiter  of  the  destinies  of  the  nation,  notwith- 
standing the  repeated  transmissions  of  authority,  certain 
suppositions  must  be  proved  to  be  true.  The  confidential 
agents  of  the  people  must  divest  themselves  of  their  per- 
sonality. The  seats  in  the  legislative  assembly  must  not 
be  filled  by  men,  but  by  mandates,  who  speak  and  vote. 
The  will  of  the  people  acting  through  the  agent,  should 
not  experience  any  interruption  or  modification  nor  be 
subjected  to  any  personal  influence.  The  members  of  the 
Cabinet  likewise  should  be  impersonal  machines  to  re- 
ceive and  carry  out  the  intentions  and  will  of  the  majority 
of  the.  legislators.  Every  neglect  of  the  commission  with 
which  the  Cabinet  is  charged  by  the  representatives,  and 
the  latter  by  the  people,  should  be  followed  at  once  by 
the  removal  of  the  offender.  But  the  commission  must  be 
clearly  and  unmistakably  understood  in  the  first  place. 
The  people  must  be  united  in  their  opinions  on  the  laws 
and  the  method  of  administration  which  they  have  decided 
to  be  necessary  for  the  best  interests  of  the  State,  and 
they  must  require  the  strictest  adherence  to  these  methods 
and  principles  from  their  representatives.  They  should 
choose  for  their  representatives  such  men  alone  as  they 
know  possess  character  and  talent,  with  the  ability  to 


REALITY  OF  REPRESENTATIVE  LBGISLATION.          173 

comprehend  and  carry  out  the  programme  laid  down  for 
them  by  the  electors,  so  that  they  will  not  deviate  from 
the  straight  line  drawn  for  them,  nor  hesitate  to  sacrifice 
their  time,  labor  and  their  personal  interests  when  neces- 
sary, to  the  common  welfare.  This  would  be  ideal  repre- 
sentation; in  this  way  the  legislation  would  be  the  actual 
work  of  the  legislators.  The  centre  of  gravity  of  the  en- 
tire structure  of  State  would  be  in  the  ballot  box,  and 
every  individual  citizen  would  have  his  visible  and  per- 
ceptible share  in  the  guidance  of  public  affairs. 

But  now  let  us  turn  from  theory  to  practice.  What 
a  disappointment  awaits  us  here!  Representative  legis- 
lation even  in  its  most  classic  homes,  England  and  Bel- 
gium, does  not  fulfill  a  single  one  of  the  conditions  I  have 
been  enumerating.  The  will  of  the  citizen  expressed  in 
his  vote,  is  entirely  Barren  of  results.  The  delegates 
elected  act  in  all  cases  according  to  their  individual 
pleasure,  and  their  only  seritiment  of  constraint  is  in  re- 
gard to  their  rivals,  not  at  all  in  regard  to  the  wishes  of 
the  people  who  elected  them.  The  Cabinet  not  only 
rules  the  country  but  the  Parliament  as  well;  instead  of 
their  following  a  policy  prescribed  to  them,  they  dic- 
tate the  policy  of  the  Parliament  and  nation.  They  man- 
age all  the  powers  and  resources  of  the  nation  according 
to  their  own  discretion,  bestow  favors  and  presents,  sup- 
port numerous  hangers-on  in  luxury  at  the  expense  of  the 
community  and  never  hear  a  word  of  reproof  if  they  re- 
member to  send  to  the  majority  in  Parliament  occasional 
titbits  from  the  royal  feast  spread  for  them  by  the  State. 
In  actual  practice  the  ministers  are  no  more  accountable 
than  the  members  of  Parliament.  They  are  not  punished 
in  the  slightest  for  the  hundred  acts  of  arbitrary  power, 
injustice  and  misuse  of  their  authority,  which  they 
commit  every  day.  When  a  case  does  occur  once  in  t. 


174  THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

century,  of  a  minister  being  called  to  account  for  his  mis- 
demeanors, because  he  has  proved  himself  an  exception- 
ally outrageous  rascal,  or  because  he  has  aroused  a 
passionate  hatred  against  his  person,  thu  impeachment 
proceeds  in  a  pompous  and  imposing  manner,  but  ter- 
minates in  an  absurdly  .insignificant  sentence.  The  Par- 
liament is  an  institution  for  the  satisfaction  of  vanity  and 
ambition  and  for  the  furtherance  of  the  personal  interests 
of  the  members.  The  people  has  been  for  thousands  of 
years  in  the  habit  of  submitting  to  a  sovereign  will  and 
of  showing  honors  to  a  privileged  aristocracy,  in  whose 
hands  they  left  all  the  funds  of  the  State  for  their  personal 
use.  Certain  enlightened  minds,  capable  of  seeing  into 
the  future,  gave  them  a  form  of  government  in  re- 
presentative legislation,  which  permitted  them  to  set  up 
their  own  will  as  the  sovereign  power  and  to  deprive  the 
aristocracy  of  their  control  of  the  public  finances.  What 
did  the  people  do?  They  hastened  to  put  on  representa- 
tive legislation,  but  on  top  of  their  old  habits,  so  that  now 
as  much  as  ever  before,  they  are  ruled  by  an  individual 
will  and  they  are  plundered  by  a  privileged  class;  only 
this  will  is  no  longer  called  the  king,  but  the  leader  of 
his  party  and  the  privileged  class,  not  the  aristocracy, 
but  the  majority  in  the  House.  The  old  relation  between 
the  average  citizen  and  the  State  remains  unaltered;  my 
Hans  to  whom  I  am  always  returning,  continues  to  pay 
taxes  whose  amount  he  does  not  fix  himself  and  whose 
expenditure  he  can  not  control,  he  must  obey  laws  which 
he  did  not  impose  upon  himself  and  whose  utility  he 
fails  to  recognize,  he  must  take  off  his  hat  to  the  public 
employe  that  another's  will  has  set  up  over  him,  whether 
his  name  be  Johnny  in  England,  Ivan  in  Russia  or  Hans 
in  the  German -speaking  countries. 

Parliamentism  has  one  advantage;  it  makes  it  possible 


MEN  OP  POWERFUL  WILLS.  175 

for  those  who  are  ambitious,  to  rise  by  utilizing  their  fel- 
low-citizens. I  will  show  that  this  is  a  genuine  advantage. 
Every  nation,  and  especially  those  still  engaged  in  an  as- 
cending self-development,  inspired  by  an  inexhaustible 
vital  energy,  produces  in  each  generation  some  individual 
in  whom  an  especially  powerfully  organized  personality 
clamors  for  room  for  expansion.  These  are  men  born  to  rule, 
who  refuse  to  bear  another's  yoke  or  to  submit  to  an- 
other's control.  They  want  to  have  their  head  and  their 
elbows  free.  They  are  only  able  to  yield  to  the  discipline 
of  their  own  will  and  judgment,  never  to  those  of  another. 
They  submit  because  they  choose  or  think  best,  never 
because  they  are  compelled  to  do  so.  These  individuals 
never  meet  with  a  barrier  that  they  do  not  demolish  or 
ride  over  it.  Life  does  not  seem  worth  living  to  them 
unless  they  experience  that  satisfactioa  produced  alone  by 
the  unchecked  play  of  all  their  capabilities  and  inclin- 
ations. The  consciousness  that  a  large  part  of  their  horizon 
is  obscured  by  some  alien  consciousness,  removed  alike 
beyond  their  influence  and  observation,  destroys  their 
enjoyment  of  it,  they  look  upon  their  Ego  as  a  cramped 
and  wretched  Ego,  incapable  of  stretching  and  asserting 
itself,  their  very  existence  appears  insupportable  to  them  if 
they  consider  it  impelled  and  guided  by  alien  forces. 
Such  individuals  require  room.  In  solitude  they  find  it 
without  effort  or  difficulty.  If  they  are  anchorites,  if  they 
are  hermits  or  fakirs,  Canadian  trappers  or  pioneers  of 
the  back- woods,  they  can  live  out  their  lives  without  con- 
flicts with  others.  But  if  they  are  to  remain  in  the  society 
of  man,  there  is  but  one  place  for  them:  that  of  leader. 
They  would  not  remain  an  instant  in  the  condition  of  my 
Hans.  They  are  no  soft  plasma,  but  crystals,  hard  as 
diamonds.  They  can  not  squeeze  into  the  hole  which 
•ha  structure  of  State  has  left  open  for  them,  without 


THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

regard  to  their  shape  and  size.  They  must  have  a 
special  cell,  made  to  fit  their  angles  and  planes.  They 
rebel  against  the  laws  which  do  not  fit  their  case,  in 
whose  creation  they  had  no  share,  and  they  shake  their 
fists  in  the  face  of  the  government  official  who  attempts  to 
give  instead  of  receiving  commands.  There  is  no  room 
at  all  for  such  natures  in  an  absolute  monarchy.  This  form 
of  government  is  usually  stronger  than  their  power  of 
expansion  and  they  are  worsted  in  their  attempt  to  over- 
throw it.  But  before  they  succumb  they  shake  the  State 
until  the  king  trembles  upon  his  throne  and  the  peasant 
in  his  cottage  is  thrown  down  by  the  violence  of  the  shock. 
They  become  regicides,  rebels  or  at  least  highway 
robbers  or  free-booters.  In  the  Middle  Ages  they  wan- 
dered through  the  forests  as  Robin  Hood,  or  as  leaders 
of  a  band  of  brigands,  became  the  terror  of  princes  and 
peoples.  Later  as  Cortez  and  Pizarro,  they  conquered  and 
plundered  the  New  World,  fought  at  Pavia  as  captains  of 
free-lances,  and  as  soldiers  of  fortune  during  the  Thirty 
Years  War  rented  their  services  to  the  different  generals 
and  rose  to  power,  or  were  broken  upon  the  wheel  like 
Schinderhannes  and  Cartouche.  Today  they  are  called 
in  Russia  Nihilists,  as  yesterday  they  were  known  in  the 
Ottoman  Empire  as  Mehemet  Ali.  A  representative 
government  allows  these  men  with  the  powerful  Ego  to 
act  out  their  impulses,  maintain  their  individuality,  with- 
out disturbing  or  even  threatening  the  State.  Much  less 
exertion  is  required  to  be  elected  to  Parliament  than  to 
climb  to  Wallenstein's  position,  and  it  is  even  easier  to 
become  prime  minister  in  a  constitutional  state  than  to 
overthrow  an  ancient  throne.  A  member  of  Parliament 
can  hold  his  head  high  where  Hans  would  be  obliged  to 
stoop,  and  a  prime  minister  may  have  to  struggle  but 
never  to  obey  another's  will.  Hence  Parliamentism  in  a 


REPRESENTATIVE  LEGISLATION  A  SAFETY-VALVE.    177 

country  is  the  safety  valve  which  prevents  the  powerful 
individuals  of  the  nation  from  causing  destructive  explos- 
ions. If  we  study  the  psychology  of  the  professional 
politicians  in  all  those  countries  with  a  representative  form 
of  government,  we  will  find  that  the  compelling  force 
which  drives  them  into  public  life,  is  the  necessity  for  a 
larger  space  in  which  the  growth  and  activity  of  their  Ego 
can  continue  without  restraint.  This  is  called  ambition. 
I  have  nothing  to  say  against  this  term  if  it  is  defined 
correctly.  What  is  ambition?  Is  it  what  the  German 
word  for  it,  Ehrgeiz,  honor-greed,  represents,  a  craving 
for  external  titles  of  honor?  This  motive  may  influence 
some  grocer  who  has  found  a  fortune  in  his  coffee-sacks 
and  is  now  trying  to  get  into  office.  But  it  plays  no  role 
in  the  life-career  of  a  Disraeli,  a  Kossuth,  a  La  Salle  or  a 
Gambetta.  Such  men  as  these  do  not  care  for  the  res- 
pectful greetings  of  self-important  or  obtrusive  nonen- 
tities on  the  street,  nor  to  wear  gay  uniforms,  nor  to  have 
reporters,  biographers  and  artists  on  illustrated  weeklies, 
at  their  heels  continually,  nor  for  the  notes  from  pupils  in 
the  young  ladies'  seminaries,  begging  for  their  auto- 
graphs. Merely  for  the  sake  of  these  petty  gratifications 
of  their  vanity  they  would  never  have  assumed  the  terrible 
burden  of  public  life,  which  repeats  in  the  midst  of  our  cul- 
ture and  civilization  all  the  conditions  of  prehistoric  exis- 
tence. In  public,  political  life  there  is  no  rest  nor  peace 
possible,  every  one  is  either  fighting,  hiding  in  ambush, 
lying,  listening,  hunting  for  trails,  or  removing  the 
trace  of  his  own,  sleeping  with  one  eye  open  and  his  gun 
in  his  hand,  looking  upon  every  one  he  meets  as  an  enemy, 
his  hand  against  everybody  and  everybody's  hand  against 
him,  slandered,  traduced,  badgered,  provoked  and  woun- 
ded—in short,  he  must  live  like  a  red  skin  on  the  war- 
path in  the  trackless  forest.  The  so-called  ambition 


178  THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

which  compelled  the  statesman  to  enter  upon  his  political 
career,  to  select  this  dangerous  and  thorny  path,  was 
nothing  else  than  the  necessity  of  allowing  his  personality 
to  develope  completely  and  freely,  a  sensation  of  inde- 
scribable delight  which  the  ordinary  class  of  men  never  ex- 
perience and  which  is  only  gained  from  the  consciousness 
of  a  will  which  has  overcome  each  and  every  obstacle.  The 
case  is  similar  in  regard  to  the  passion  for  ruling.  It  is  a 
matter  of  much  less  importance  to  the  genuine,  born 
party  leader  to  rule  over  others,  than  to  prevent  any  one 
from  ruling  over  him.  When  he  bends  the  wills  of  others 
and  makes  them  yield  to  him,  it  is  principally  to  appre- 
ciate and  rejoice  in  the  consciousness  of  the  strength  of 
his  own  will.  There  is  but  one  choice  open  to  the  man 
living  in  the  midst  of  our  modern  conditions  of  State  and 
society,  unless  he  lives  like  a  hermit  in  the  wilderness — he 
must  either  rule  or  be  ruled.  As  strong  natures  can  not 
endure  the  latter,  they  are  obliged  to  decide  upon  the 
former;  not  because  it  gives  them  any  special  pleasure, 
but  because  it  is  today  the  only  way  in  which  the  indi- 
vidual can  retain  his  liberty  and  independence.  Those 
who  love  authority  are  not  counting  the  heads  beneath 
them,  to  satisfy  their  vanity,  but  those  above  them.  Ce- 
sar preferred  to  be  the  first  in  some  village  rather  than  the 
second  in  Rome.  In  the  latter  place  he  would  have  ruled 
over  millions,  subject  to  but  one,  while  in  the  former  only 
a  few  hundred  men  would  have  recognized  in  him  their 
master.  Would  not  the  passion  for  ruling,  have  been 
gratified  a  thousandfold  more  in  Rome  than  in  the  village? 
Yes,  if  Cesar  had  only  been  anxious  to  rule.  But  he 
wished  to  be  conscious  only  of  his  own  Ego;  in  Rome  it 
came  in  contact  with  another  and  stronger  will,  while  in 
the  village  it  could  expand  in  all  directions  without  meet- 
ing another.  In  Cesar's  remark  lies  the  whole  theory 


THE  MEN  BORN  TO  BULK.  179 

of  the  ambition  which  compels  the  politician  to  enter  the 
arena  of  public  life.  Men  of  small  calibre,  the  rank 
and  file  of  politicians,  may  be  influenced  by  other  motives; 
they  think  it  a  matter  of  the  greatest  importance  to  secure 
for  themselves  and  their  friends  the  spoils  of  office,  to 
bore  a  small  hole  into  the  State  barrel  and  help  them- 
selves to  its  contents  through  their  own  little  straw. 
These  petty  politicians  and  carpet-baggers,  as  they  are 
called  in  North  America,  these  office  seekers  are  only  the 
paid  hirelings  of  the  leaders;  they  are  not  an  indispensa- 
ble part  of  Parliamentism,  but  help  fill  it  out  as  wadding. 
To  the  leaders  however,  the  material  advantages  of  then- 
position  are  but  secondary  matters.  The  point  of  the 
greatest  importance  to  them  is  the  unchecked  expansion 
of  an  Ego  that  has  painful  cramps  if  obliged  to  stay 
folded  up. 

No  word  reappears  so  often  in  politics  as  "I".  1  and 
always  I  alone.  This  shows  that  a  representative  consti- 
tution has  proved  to  be  the  triumph,  the  apotheosis  o> 
egotism.  According  to  abstract  theory  it  is  an  organized 
fellowship,  but  in  practice  it  is  self-interest  reduced  to  a 
science.  The  fiction  is  that  the  representative  relinquishes 
his  individuality  and  is  transformed  into  a  selfless  col- 
lective being,  through  whom  those  who  elected  him  think 
and  speak,  decide  and  act.  The  reality  is  that  the  electors 
renounce  by  the  act  of  election,  all  their  rights  in  favor  of 
the  representative,  and  he  gains  the  entire  authority  which 
they  lose.  In  his  programme  and  in  the  speeches  with 
which  he  wins  the  vote  of  the  people,  the  candidate  of 
course  pretends  to  accept  this  fiction.  Before  election  he 
talks  of  nothing  but  the  interests  of  the  public,  he  is  the 
guardian  and  promoter  of  the  common  good,  he  forgets 
himself  in  his  anxiety  for  the  welfare  of  the  community. 
But  these  are  only  formulas  which  even  the  most  good- 


180  THE  POLITICAL  LIE. 

natured  simpleton  has  ceased  to  accept  literally.  What 
are  the  interests  and  welfare  of  the  general  public  to  the 
candidate?  Less  than  Hecuba  to  the  player.  He  wishes 
to  rise  in  the  world  and  his  constituents  are  the  rounds  of 
his  ladder.  He  work  for  the  community?  Not  much!  He 
expects  the  community  to  work  for  him.  Some  one  has 
described  the  public  as  voting  cattle.  This  is  a  picturesque 
and  unusually  appropriate  expression.  Representative 
legislation  produces  conditions  resembling  those  of  patri- 
archal times.  The  representatives  take  the  place  of  the 
patriarchs  and  their  wealth  consists  similarly  in  herds  and 
flocks.  But  nowadays,  these  herds  are  not  composed  of 
actual  cattle  with  horns  and  hoofs,  but  of  cattle,  figur- 
atively speaking,  who  on  election  days  are  driven  up  to 
the  ballot-box  to  deposit  their  votes.  Rabagas  is  supposed 
to  be  a  caricature  and  a  satire.  But  he  seems  to  me  more 
like  a  faithful  portrait.  Why  should  we  be  astonished 
and  smile  at  the  fact  that  Rabagas,  the  great  revolutionist, 
should  force  upon  the  people,  when  he  had  once  attained 
to  the  summit  of  power  by  the  help  of  the  people,  the 
identical  forms  of  governmental  oppression  which  he  had 
denounced  as  crimes  in  his  incendiary  speeches  against 
his  predecessors?  To  me  this  change  seems  natural  and 
consistent.  The  politician  has  no  other  purpose  and  no 
other  motive  for  his  actions  than  the  gratification  of  his 
egotism.  To  compass  this  he  must  have  the  support  of  the 
masses.  And  this  support  is  only  obtained  by  the  usual 
promises  and  party  cries  which  the  politician  rattles  off  as 
glibly  as  the  beggar  on.  the  church  steps  repeats  his 
customary  prayer.  The  candidate  submits  to  this  old- 
established  custom  mechanically,  almost  unconsciously. 
This  wins  for  him  the  support  of  the  voting  public  and  he 
steps  into  power.  His  egotism  is  thus  satisfied;  the  voting 
rmblic  vanish  from  his  horizon  completely  and  do  not  re- 


ANALYSIS  OF  AN  KLBCTIOlf.  JgX 

appear  until  he  is  threatened  with  the  loss  of  his  authority. 
Then  he  will  do  what  is  necessary  to  retain  it,  as  he  did 
before  what  was  necessary  to  obtain  it.  He  will  either 
bind  upon  his  brow  the  wreath  of  promises  and  party  cries 
or  else  threaten  the  grumblers,  as  the  emergency  may 
require.  This  sequence  of  logical  premises  and  con- 
clusions is  called  by  the  world — representative  legislation. 


IV. 

We  must  study  the  details  of  the  profession  of  politi- 
cian before  we  can  appreciate  how  shamelessly  the  prac- 
tice of  Parliamentism  belies  its  theory. 

How  does  a  man  become  a  representative  to  Congress 
or  Parliament?  Only  once  in  ten  years  or  so  does  it  hap- 
pen that  the  voting  public  seeks  some  sagacious  and  honest 
fellow  citizen  and  begs  him  to  be  its  representative,  and 
even  in  this  case  it  is  usually  under  the  influence  of  certain 
circumstances  which  deprive  it  completely  of  its  ideality. 
Some  party  has  an  interest  in  placing  the  authority  in  the 
hands  of  this  chosen  man,  perhaps  because  his  name  will 
be  an  ornament  to  its  standard,  or  else  to  oppose  a  strong 
candidate  to  the  dangerous  one  nominated  by  the  other 
party.  In  this  case  the  candidate's  name  is  advertised  and 
his  virtues  celebrated,  without  any  effort  on  his  part,  with- 
out any  solicitation  from  him,  and  the  office  falls  to  the 
most  suitable  one  among  the  citizens  according  to  the  ab- 
stract theory  of  representation.  But  the  case  is  usually 
entirely  different:  some  ambitious  individual  steps  up  be- 
fore his  fellow-citizens  and  tries  to  convince  them  that  he, 
more  than  any  one  else,  deserves  their  confidence.  What 
motive  impels  him  to  this  step?  Because  he  feels  an  im- 
pulse within  him  to  make  himself  useful  to  the  commun- 
itv?  Who  can  believe  this?  Men  are  rarely  met  with  in 


182  THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

our  times,  who  have  such  a  sense  of  fellowship  with  the 
people  and  with  mankind  at  large,  that  it  compels  them 
to  seek  their  happiness  in  working  and  sacrificing  for  the 
community.  Even  in  such  men  their  very  nature  renders 
them  more  sensible  to  rude  and  vulgar  impressions  than 
other  men,  as  they  are  more  ideal  and  susceptible.  And  do 
such  ideal,  sensitive  natures  expose  themselves  voluntarily 
to  the  mental  and  physical  annoyances  of  a  political  cam- 
paign? Never!  They  can  suffer  and  die  for  humanity 
but  they  can  not  pay  empty  compliments  to  a  horde  of 
dull  voters.  They  can  do  what  they  consider  to  be  their 
duty,  without  regard  to  reward  or  appreciation,  but  they 
can  not  sing  their  own  praises  before  a  crowd  m  extrav- 
agant phraseology.  They  withdraw  into  their  study  or 
into  a  small  circle  of  congenial  minds  and  avoid  the  rude 
turmoil  of  the  market  place,  as  a  usual  thing,  yith  a 
timidity  which  others  often  mistake  for  superciliousness, 
but  which  is  in  reality,  only  their  fear  of  contaminating 
their  sacred  '  ieal.  .Reformers  and  martyr  spirits  some- 
times appear  before  the  multitude  but  only  to  instruct  it, 
to  point  out  its  faults,  to  tear  it  away  from  its  cherished 
customs,  not  to  flatter  it,  confirm  it  in  its  errors  and  repeat 
in  honeyed  terms  what  it  loves  to  listen  to.  Hence  they 
are  more  often  stoned  than  crowned  with  flowers.  Wycliffe 
and  Knox,  Huss  and  Luther,  Arnold  de  Brescia  and  Sa- 
vonarola have  each  exerted  a  powerful  influence  upon 
large  numbers  of  people  and  aroused  passionate  devotion 
as  well  as  bitter  hatred.  But  I  do  not  believe  that  they 
or  a  Rousseau,  a  Goethe,  a  Kant,  or  a  Carlyle,  would 
ever  have  been  appointed  to  represent  the  people  in  the 
legislature  in  any  country  or  city  district,  by  their  own 
powers  alone,  without  the  help  of  any  supporting  commit- 
tee. These  men  would  not  stoop  so  far  as  to  pay  court  to 
xheir  constituents  to  inveigle  their  votes,  and  thus  con- 


THE  CANDIDATE.  1Q3 

quer  with  his  own  weapons  the  opposition  candidate,  who 
would  carry  everything  before  him  by  merely  following 
the  ordinary  routine.  The  method  by  which  a  political 
office  is  to  be  obtained  often  deters  a  man  ot  true  refine- 
ment from  attempting  it,  but  it  is  no  obstacle  to  the  ego- 
tists who  are  determined  to  attain  to  influence  and  dis- 
tinction and  are  willing  to  do  any  thing  to  promote  their 
ends. 

A  certain  man  decides  to  enter  upon  a  political 
career.  The  mainspring  of  his  decision  is  self-interest; 
as  he  requires  popularity  to  attain  to  the  position  he 
covets,  and  as  popularity  is  usually  only  won  by  those 
who«promote  or  appear  to  promote,  the  public  welfare,  he 
begins  to  work  for  the  interests  of  the  public,  or  to  pre- 
tend that  he  does  so.  He  must  possess  certain  qualities 
in  order  to  ensure  success,  which  do  not  make  him  more 
loveable.  He  must  not  be  modest,  for  in  that  case  he 
would  not  push  himself  forward,  and  this  he  must  do  if 
he  wants  to  be  noticed.  He  must  be  ready  to  dissemble 
and  lie,  for  he  is  obliged  to  assume  friendly  interest  in 
certain  men,  who  are,  if  not  repugnant  to  him,  yet  cer- 
tainly indifferent,  otherwise  he  would  make  enemies  of 
them.  He  must  make  hundreds  of  promises  that  he 
knows  beforehand  he  will  not  be  able  to  fulfill.  He  must 
learn  how  to  assume  and  play  upon  the  lower  aspirations 
and  passions  of  the  public,  their  prejudices  and  customary 
beliefs,  for  these  are  the  most  widely  extended,  and  he 
must  win  over  the  majority  to  his  side.  These  traits  com- 
bine to  form  a  physiognomy  absolutely  repulsive  to  a 
nobler  man.  Such  a  figure  in  a  novel  would  never  arouse 
the  sympathetic  affection  of  the  reader.  But  in  real  life 
the  same  reader  casts  his  vote  for  him  every  time. 

A  political  as  well  as  a  military  campaign  has  ite 
science  of  warfare,  its  strategy  and  its  manual  of  tactics. 


184  THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

Thfc  candidate  seldom  comes  into  direct  personal  contact 
with  the  constituents.  A  committee  stands  between 
them,  whose  authority  is  created  only  by  their  own  pre- 
suming audacity.  Some  individual  comes  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  would  like  to  assert  himself  somewhat.  He  sum- 
mons his  fellow-citizens  to  a  public  meeting,  entirely  on 
his  own  responsibility.  If  he  feels  that  he  is  not  yet  of 
sufficient  importance  to  make  it  a  success  alone,  he  in- 
vites some  friends  to  join  with  him,  or  he  calls  upon  a  few 
rich  and  empty-headed  nonentities  and  tells  them  that  it 
is  their  privilege  and  their  duty  to  place  themselves  at  the 
head  of  their  fellow-citizens,  assume  the  guidance  of 
public  opinion,  etc.  The  wealthy  idiots  feel  very  much 
flattered  by  this  invitation  and  lose  no  time  in  signing 
their  names  to  the  summons,  which  is  then  published  in 
the  newspapers  or  posted  on  the  walls,  and  their  signature 
gives  it  brilliancy  in  the  eyes  of  all  those  who  judge  a 
man  by  his  bank  account,  rank  or  social  position.  Thus 
the  public  meeting  is  arranged  and  a  committee  formed  to 
take  charge  of  it.  Each  committee  of  this  kind  J1'  Com- 
posed of  two  elements,  the  energetic  and  the  unscrupu- 
lous schemers  who  are  working  for  some  personal  ad- 
vantage of  a  moral  or  material  nature,  and  the  consequential 
narrow-minded  blockheads,  solemnly  in  earnest,  who  are 
taken  on  board  by  the  former  for  ballast.  Others  can 
become  members  of  the  committee  if  they  choose,  even  if 
they  are  not  invited  to  join.  All  that  is  necessary  is  to 
speak  loudly  and  fervently  in  the  meeting  and  thus 
attract  the  attention  of  the  crowd.  A  man  with  a  power- 
ful voice  and  a  rapid  utterance,  no  matter  what  he 
says,  will  soon  attain  to  a  certain  degree  of  authority  in  a 
mass  meeting,  and  as  these  qualities  make  him  desirable  as 
a  member  of  the  committee,  and  formidable  as  an  antag- 
onist, he  is  consequently  welcomed  into  the  committee 


THE  COMMITTEE.  Jg5 

The  committee  can  organize  itself  around  the  man 
who  wishes  to  become  the  candidate,  or  it  can  be  formed 
uninfluenced  by  him.  In  the  former  case  the  candidate 
guides  the  whole  procedure;  he  organizes  his  staff,  he 
summons  the  public  to  meetings,  appoints  orators  to  speak 
in  them,  and  fights  his  own  battles.  In  the  latter  case  the 
committee  is  a  band  of  wandering  adventurers  "whose 
leadership  can  be  won  by  any  enterprising  man,  and 
whose  services  are  rented  out  to  any  candidate  that  may 
require  them  to  conduct  the  campaign.  Many  politicians 
have  worked  in  this  way  for  others,  before  they  set  up 
their  own  claims  for  candidacy;  they  made  and  un- 
made representatives;  they  gave  or  rather  sold  offices 
to  those  who  were  willing  to  pay  for  their  serv- 
ices in  hard  cash  or  minor  offices  and  advantages  of 
different  kinds ;  in  certain  rare  cases  merely  for  vanity,  so  as 
to  be  recognized  as  the  most  influential  men  in  the  voting 
district.  In  a  mass  meeting  loud  talking  wins  the  day. 
The  crowd  only  listens  to  those  who  speak  sonorously, 
deal  in  fine  promises  and  everyday  matters,  easily  under- 
stood. On  election  day  the  most  influential  voters  whom 
the  candidate  has  taken  especial  care  to  win  over  to  his 
side,  deposit  their  votes  according  to  the  dictates  of  their 
vanity  or  of  their  interests;  the  majority  however,  vote  for 
the  candidate  in  whose  behalf  the  committee  has  labored 
most  zealously.  They  put  into  the  box  the  name  that  has 
been  buzzing  about  their  ears  for  so  many  weeks.  They 
do  not  know  the  man  to  whom  it  belongs,  they  know 
nothing  of  his  character,  his  capability,  his  opinions;  chey 
vote  for  him  because  his  name  is  the  most  familiar.  If 
they  were  asked  to  lend  him  an  old  tea-kettle  for  a  few 
hours  they  would  search  out  his  antecedents  more  care- 
fully. But  they  are  ready  to  confide  to  him  the  highest 
interests  of  the  community,  as  well  as  their  own,  without 


186  THE  POLITICAL  LIE. 

knowing  anything  more  about  him  than  that  he  is  recom- 
mended and  endorsed  by  a  committee  of  men  who  are 
often  as  perfect  strangers  as  the  candidate  himself.  And 
it  does  no  good  to  rebel  against  this  act  of  violence,  for 
such  it  is.  A  private  citizen  who  accepts  seriously  his 
constitutional  rights  and  wishes  to  learn  more  about  the 
man  to  whom  these  important  trusts  are  to  be  confided, 
tries  in  vain  to  resist  the  tyranny  of  the  committee,  forcing 
upon  his  acceptance  a  candidate  of  whom  he  knows  so 
little.  His  resistance  is  impotent  and  his  conscientious- 
ness is  smothered  and  lost  in  the  indolence  of  the  crowd. 
What  can  he  do?  He  can  stay  away  from  the  polls  on 
election  day,  or  vote  for  the  man  of  his  individual  pref- 
erence. But  neither  of  these  proceedings  will  help  him 
in  the  slightest.  The  man  will  be  elected  nevertheless, 
for  whom  the  great  mass  of  the  thoughtless,  the  indifferent 
or  the  intimidated  deposit  their  votes,  and  this  mass  pro- 
claims always  the  name  which  has  been  kept  most  loudly, 
forcibly  and  constantly  before  the  public.  It  is  true  that 
theoretically  every  citizen  is  at  liberty  to  endorse  the  man 
of  his  individual  choice,  to  convene  meetings  for  him,  and 
create  a  party  to  support  him.  But  in  real  life  it  is  much 
more  difficult  to  win  adherents  by  extolling  the  superior 
virtues  of  a  candidate,  than  by  promising  advantages  of  all 
kinds.  In  consequence  of  this  fact  the  citizen  who  con- 
scientiously tries  to  practise  his  political  rights  with  a 
view  to  the  welfare  of  the  community,  will  always  find 
himself  in  the  minority,  while  the  majority  are  following 
the  lead  of  the  professional  politicians  who  carry  on  their 
public  life  as  a  regular  lucrative  business  career. 

This  is  the  physiology  of  the  elections  of  members  to 
representative  bodies.  The  one  elected  is  supposed  to  be 
the  man  in  whom  the  majority  have  confidence,  whereas 
he  is  in  reality,  only  the  choice  of  an  insignificant  minority. 


THE  PROFESSIONAL  POLITICIAN.  18? 

But  the  minority  is  organized  into  a  compact  whole,  while 
the  majority  of  voters  are  a  mass  of  loose  molecules  which 
the  former  can  mould  to  its  will.  The  membership 
should  be  presented  to  the  wisest  and  most  capable  citi- 
zen; it  falls  however,  to  the  one  who  pushes  himself  for- 
ward most  audaciously.  Cultivation,  experience,  honor 
and  intellectual  superiority  are  unessential  qualifications 
in  a  candidate.  They  do  not  detract,  but  they  do  not  aid 
him  in  the  slightest  in  his  political  struggle.  But  what 
he  needs  above  all  is  self-appreciation,  audacity,  fluency 
of  speech  and  vulgarity  At  the  very  best,  it  is  possible 
for  the  candidate  to  lie  an  honest  and  shrewd  man,  but  he 
can  never  be  of  a  refined,  sensitive  and  modest  nature. 
This  explains  the  great  scarcity  of  characters  in  representa- 
tive bodies,  while  talents  are  frequently  met  with. 

The  professional  politician  has  now  obtained  the 
coveted  position  by  his  false  promises,  his  tail-wagging 
before  the  public,  by  unabashed  self-laudation  and  de- 
clamatory speeches  full  of  common-places,  aided  by  his 
comrades  'who  are  all  fighting  with  the  same  weapons  and 
whom  he  will  aid  in  turn.  How  will  he  exercise  the 
authority  with  which  he  has  been  invested?  He  is  either 
an  exceptional  individuality  or  an  average  man  of  his 
class.  If  the  former,  he  will  found  a  party,  if  the  latter, 
he  will  join  one  already  established. 

That  quality  which  makes  its  possessor  a  leader  of 
men,  is  the  will.  It  is  a  natural  endowment  which  has 
nothing  in  common  with  reason,  imagination,  foresight  or 
magnanimity.  A  powerful  will  can  be  combined  with  a 
narrow  mind,  dishonorableness,  selfishness,  malice  and 
general  lowness  of  sentiments.  It  is  an  organic  strength  and 
can  belong  to  some  moral  monster,  tfs  well  as  a  fine  figure  and 
muscular  development  to  some  corrupt  or  mentally  insig- 
nificant being.  Whatever  his  other  qualities  may  be,  the 


Z88  THE  POLITICAL  LIE. 

man  of  the  most  powerful  will  always  take  the  lead  in 
any  assembly,  guides  and  controls  it. .  He  will  destroy 
the  weaker  wills  that  oppose  him;  his  relation  to  them 
will  always  be  that  of  the  iron  to  the  earthen  pots.  A 
superior  intelligence  is  able  to  bring  a  stronger  will  into 
subjection.  But  how?  Not  by  conquering  it  in  an  open 
hand  to  hand  fight  but  by  apparently  submitting  to  its 
control  and  at  the  same  time  whispering  in  its  ears  the  de- 
sired ideas  and  opinions,  so  skillfully  that  it  learns  to  con- 
sider them  as  its  own.  The  most  important  ally  of  the 
will  in  Parliament,  is  eloquence.  This  is  also  a  natural 
gift,  entirely  distinct  from  high  intellectual  culture  or 
character.  A  man  can  be  the  greatest  thinker,  poet, 
general  or  legislator  in  the  world,  and  yet  not  be  able  to 
make  an  effective  speech,  and  the  reverse  is  also  true,  he 
can  have  an  especial  talent  for  eloquence  with  an  average, 
mediocre  intellect.  The  history  of  representative  legisla- 
tion records  few  examples  of  great  orators  who  ever  did 
anything  to  enlarge  the  mental  horizon  of  their  race.  The 
most  famous  extemporaneous  speakers,  whose  share  in 
important  debates  led  to  decisions  affecting  the  history  of 
the  world,  and  crowned  thsm  with  fame  and  power — their 
speeches  when  read  produce  such  a  paltry  impression  that 
the  reader  exclaims:  "What  can  it  have  been  that  made 
this  speech  have  such  incomprehensible  effect?"  It  is  not 
the  rational  sentence  that  finds  an  attentive  audience  in 
the  crowd,  but  the  one  forcibly  delivered.  The  most 
brilliant  and  easily  comprehended  argument  has  little 
chance  of  moving  a  large  number  of  hearers  unless 
its  delivery  has  been  carefully  prepared  and  rehearsed 
beforehand.  While  it  happens  very  often  that  they 
are  entirely  carried  away  by  the  inspiration  of  some 
foolish  orator  and  pass  resolutions  in  a  rash,  almost  un- 
accountable precipitation,  which  they  can  not  even  ex- 


WILL   AND   ELOQUENCE.  189 

plain  to  themselves  upon  cool  reflection. 

When  the  party  leader  unites  to  his  indomitable  will 
the  talent  of  eloquence,  he  plays  the  chief  role  upon  the 
world's  stage.  But  if  he  does  not  possess  this  gift  he  stays 
behind  the  scenes  and  aa  manager,  dictates  and  controls 
the  actions  of  all  the  players  on  the  stage,  invisible  to  the 
public,  but  the  highest  authority,  the  moving  spirit  of  the 
whole  parliamentary  comedy.  He  has  eloquent  orators 
then  to  speak  for  him,  as  he  has  often  high  but  timid  and 
vacillating  intellects  to  think  for  him. 

The  means  by  which  the  leader  of  men  exercises 
his  power,  is  the  party.  What  is  a  political  party?  In 
theory  it  is  an  union  of  men  who  combine  their  individual 
energies  to  attain  the  realization  of  their  common  ideas  in 
regard  to  the  laws  and  the  policy  of  the  Government.  In 
reality  there  is  no  great  single  party,  that  is,  ruling  or 
capable  of  ruling,  by  its  size  and  strength,  which  is  foun- 
ded on  the  basis  of  a  single  platform. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  small  groups  are  formed 
consisting  of  ten  or  twenty  persons  at  most,  attracted  by 
the  similarity  of  their  ideas  in  regard  to  the  affairs  of 
public  life.  Large  parties  however,  are  only  called  into 
existence  by  the  influence  of  private  ambition,  private 
self-interest  or  the  power  of  attraction  of  some  predom- 
inant central  personality.  Men  are  divided  by  nature  into 
two  classes;  one  of  them  can  not  endure  the  control  of 
others,  hence,  as  I  have  noted  in  the  preceding  pages,  it 
must  become  the  ruler,  according  to  the  present  arrange- 
ment of  things  in  this  world;  the  other  is  born  to  obey,  for 
under  the'necessity  of  making  decisions  and  carrying  out 
the  dictates  of  its  will,  it  shrinks  from  the  responsibility 
of  the  consequences  of  its  actions,  the  indispensable  ad- 
•uncts  of  liberty  and  self-government.  The  first  class  is 
aaturallyin  a  diminishing  minority  compared  to  the  other. 


190  THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

As  soon  as  a  man  of  the  comfortable,  obeying  kind  meets 
a  man  with  a  strong  will  and  passion  for  ruling,  he  yields 
to  him  of  his  own  free  will  and  places  the  guidance  of  his 
affairs  and  the  responsibility  for  the  same  in  his  hands  not 
only  with  pleasure,  but  with  a  sensible  lightening  of  his 
heart.  Such  obeyers  are  often  capable  of  carrying  out  the 
tasks  imposed  upon  them  by  another's  will,  with  the 
greatest  energy,  sagacity,  perseverance  and  even  sacrifice 
of  self.  But  they  must  receive  the  impulse  from  another's 
will.  They  may  have  every  talent;  they  only  lack  the 
power  of  the  initiative,  that  is,  a  will.  These  men  enter 
at  once  into  the  service  of  the  leader  whenever  they  come 
in  contact  with  him.  All  the  material  functions  of  the 
representative  legislative  assemblies  are  performed  by  the 
party  leaders  aione.  They  alone  decide,  make  wars  and 
triumph.  The  public  sessions  are  scenes  without  any  real 
significance.  Debates  are  carried  on  so  as  not  to  allow  the 
fiction  of  parliamentism  to  be  dropped.  But  only  in  the 
rarest  cases  has  a  debate  led  to  any  really  important  par- 
liamentary resolution.  Debates  and  speeches  give  the 
speech-makers  fame,  power  and  position;  but  as  a  general 
rule  they  have  not  the  slightest  influence  upon  the  result 
determined  beforehand,  consequently  the  parliamentary 
proceedings  might  be  entirely  suppressed  without  detri- 
ment and  only  the  decisious  arrived  at  by  the  parties  in 
obedience  to  the  will  of  the  leaders,  be  put  to  the  deciding 
test  of  a  vote. 

The  causes  which  lead  to  the  down-fall  of  a  party 
leader  who  has  obtained  control  of  the  reins  of  govern- 
ment, are  not  the  blunders  which  he  makes  in  the  ad 
ministration  of  the  supreme  authority;  these  only  serve  as 
pretexts  for  attacks  upon  him.  They  are  either  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  more  powerful  antagonistic  will  or  the  de- 
tection of  mercenaries  whose  greed  for  the  spoils  of  victory 


THK  MEX  BORN  TO  BE  RULKD.  191 

he  has  not  been  able  or  willing  to  satisfy,  or  a  combination 
of  these  two  causes.  This  is  so  truly  the  case  that  a  minis- 
terial crisis,  which  appears  to  transfer  the  power  from  the 
hands  of  one  into  those  of  the  other  party  utterly  and 
diametrically  opposed  to  it,  is  yet  powerless  to  effect  any 
radical  change  in  the  interior  policy  of  a  Government. 
The  relation  of  the  individual  to  the  State  remains  the 
same  as  of  old,  the  private  citizen  need  hardly  notice  when 
he  reads  his  newspaper,  that  another  party  has  climbed  to 
the  summit  of  power  and  another  Cabinet  has  replaced 
the  old.  The  designations  Liberal  and  Conservative  are 
simply  masks  for  the  real  motives  of  all  parliamentary  con- 
tests, conflicts,  campaigns  and  changes — ambition  and 
egotism. 

This  is  the  colossal  lie  of  our  modern  political  life 
with  its  many  different  strata.  In  several  countries  the 
fiction  of  representative  legislation  is  the  screen  behind 
which  is  concealed  an  absolute,  "by  the  grace  of  God" 
monarchy.  In  those  nations  in  which  it  is  an  actual  reality, 
where  the  representative  body  really  reigns  and  governs, 
it  amounts  to  nothing  but  a  dictatorship  of  certain  per- 
sons, who  in  turn,  obtain  control  of  the  •  supreme  power. 
Theoretically  representative  legislation  ensures  the  ful- 
fillment of  the  will  of  the  majority;  in  reality  it  only  car- 
ries out  the  will  of  half  a  dozen  party  leaders,  their  ad- 
visers and  standard-bearers.  Theoretically  the  opinions 
of  the  representatives  should  be  formed  or  influenced,  by 
the  arguments  advanced  in  the  parliamentary  debates;  in 
reality  they  are  not  influenced  by  them  in  the  slightest, 
but  depend  entirely  upon  the  party  leader  or  upon  private 
interests.  Theoretically  the  representatives  should  have 
only  the  good  of  the  commonwealth  before  their  eyes;  in 
reality  their  only  thought  is  how  to  advance  their  private 
interests  and  those  of  their  friends  at  the  expense  of  the 


192  THE  POLITICAL  LIB. 

commonwealth.  Theoretically  the  representatives  are 
supposed  to  be  the  best  and  wisest  of  all  the  citizens;  in 
reality  they  are  the  most  ambitious,  the  most  pushing  and 
the  coarsest.  Theoretically  the  vote  deposited  in  favor 
of  a  candidate  means  that  he  is  known  and  trusted  by  the 
voter;  in  reality  the  voter  knows  nothing  whatever  about 
him  except  that  a  set  of  ranting  speech-makers  have  been 
deafening  him  for  weeks  with  the  candidate's  name  and 
placarding  it  before  his  eyes.  The  forces  which  theo- 
retically keep  the  parliamentary  machine  in  motion,  are 
experience,  foresight  and  abnegation  of  self;  in  reality  they 
are  strength  of  will,  egotism  and  fluency  of  speech.  Culture, 
intelligence  and  noble  sentiments  are  defeated  by  noisy 
eloquence  and  indomitable  audacity,  and  the  halls  of 
legislature  are  ruled,  not  by  true  wisdom,  but  by  indiv- 
idual, obstinate  wills. 

Not  an  atom  of  the  right  of  representative  legislation 
supposed  to  be  gained  by  universal  suffrage,  falls  to  the 
individual  average  citizen.  Now  as  much  as  ever  before 
is  my  poor  Hans  obliged  to  pay  taxes  and  to  obey  the 
authorities,  bruising  his  elbows  again  and  again,  by  com- 
ing in  contact  with  the  thousand  absurd  restrictions  that 
hem  him  in  on  every  side.  All  the  share  he  has  in  the 
whole  business  of  representative  legislation,  with  all  its 
fuss  and  ceremonies,  is  his  fatigue  on  election  days,  from 
walking  to  the  -polls,  and  his  dissatisfaction  that  more 
entertaining  and  profitable  reading  matter  is  crowded  out 
of  the  newspapers  to  make  room  for  the  uninteresting,  in- 
terminable congressional  debates. 


The  Economic  Lie. 


i. 

Those  circumstances  of  our  civilization  which  affixit 
the  largest  number  of  human  beings,  with  the  most  pain- 
ful and  lasting  results,  are  the  .grievous  errors  prevailing 
in  the  economic  world.  There  are  plenty  of  people  *?ho 
have  never  taken  any  interest  in  abstract  question/?,  to 
whom  God  ir  a  matter  of  as  much  indifference  as  primal 
causes;  the  enyclical  as  uninteresting  as  the  theory  of 
evolution,  whose  faith  or  knowledge  is  alike  superficial. 
Many  people  also  are  totally  indifferent  to  the  political 
problems  of  the  day,  and  the  number  is  much  larger  than 
is  usually  supposed,  who  do  not  care  in  the  least  whether 
they  are  governed  in  the  name  of  a  personal  king  or  of  an 
impersonal  republic,  so  long  as  the  State  remains  visible 
in  the  shape  of  public  officials,  tax-collectors  and  drill-ser- 
geants. But  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  not  a  single  man  of 
our  civilization  who  is  not  daily  confronted  by  the  ques- 
tion of  supply  and  demand.  The  circumstances  of  the 
economic  world  force  themselves  upon  the  dullest  obser- 
vation and  the  most  secluded  intelligence.  Every  human 
being  possessed  of  consciousness,  expediences  certain 
wants  and  grumbles  at  the  difficulty  or  rebels  against  the 
impossibility  of  satisfying  them.  With  bitterness  does  he 
see  the  disproportion  between  his  labor  and  the  enjoy- 
ments he  is  able  to  purchase  as  the  results  of  it,  and  com- 
pare his  own  share  of  the  gifts  of  nature  and  productions 


194  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

of  art  to  those  enjoyed  by  others.  He  grows  hungry 
every  few  hours,  he  is  fatigued  and  weary  at  the  close  of 
each  working  day,  every  time  that  he  sees  a  beautiful  or 
brilliant  article  he  longs  to  possess  it,  in  obedience  to  that 
natural  instinct  of  human  nature  to  attract  notice  and  ad- 
miration to  its  personality  by  ornamental  or  distinguishing 
appendages.  Thus  he  is  led  by  the  circumstances  of  his 
physical  conditions  to  reflect  upon  his  relation  to  the 
general  movements  of  political  economy,  the  production 
and  distribution  of  wealth.  There  is  consequently  no 
subject  in  which  the  masses  are  more  vitally  interested 
than  this.  During  the  Middle  Ages  millions  were  aroused 
to  action  by  the  name  and  cause  of  Religion.  In  the 
latter  part  of  the  last  century  and  up  to  the  middle  of 
this,  the  nations  of  the  world  were  aflame  for  their  abstract 
needs  of  enlightenment  and  political  liberty.  The  cry  for 
bread  for  the  masses  fills  this  latter  part  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Century.  This  cry  is  the  sole  import  of  that 
European  policy  which  tries  to  turn  the  people  from  this 
engrossing  idea  by  side  issues  of  all  kinds,  by  persecution 
pf  some  social  class,  by  wars,  colonization  schemes,  ex- 
positions, dynastic  comedies,  parliamentary  twaddle  and 
civil  service  reforms,  but  it  is  constantly  brought  back  to 
it  by  the  pressure  of  public  opinion  which  demands  a  con- 
sideration of  the  great,  world- wide  problem  of  the  day, 
the  question  of  how  to  support  one's  self.  Crusades  for 
the  rescue  of  a  Holy  Sepulchre,  for  the  conquest  of  a 
Golden  Fleece,  are  no  longer  possible.  The  causes  of 
modern  revolutions  are  not  constitutions  on  paper  and 
democratic  party  cries,  but  the  longings  experienced  by 
so  many  to  toil  less  and  live  better. 

At  no  period  in  the  world's  history  were  the  con- 
trasts between  rich  and  poor  so  decided,  so  prominent,  as 
at  present.  Those  writers  on  political  economy  who  com- 


ABSOLUTE  AND  BBLATIVE  POVBBTT.        J95 

inence  their  scientific  works  -with  the  axiom  that  pau- 
perism is  as  old  as  humanity  itself,  betray  either  a  lack  of 
reflection  or  truth.  There  is  an  absolute  and  a  relative 
poverty.  Absolute  poverty  is  that  condition  in  which  a 
man  is  partially  or  totally  unable  to  satisfy  his  actual 
wants,  that  is,  those  which  are  the  result  of  the  organic  act 
of  living.  Hence  it  is  that  condition  in  which  he  finds  it 
impossible  to  procure  sufficient  food,  or  where  to  procure 
it,  he  is  obliged  to  curtail  the  rest  and  sleep  which  his 
system  requires  and  without  which  he  pines  and  dies  pre- 
ma'-urely.  Relative  poverty,  on  the  other  hand,  signifies 
a  condition  of  lack  of  means  to  satisfy  the  wants  which 
man  has  artificially  acquired,  not  the  indispensable  re- 
quisites for  the  preservation  of  life  and  health,  but  those 
of  which  the  individual  usually  becomes  conscious  by  the 
comparison  of  his  manner  of  living  with  that  of  others. 
The  working  man  feels  poor  when  he  is  not  able  to  smoke 
and  drink  his  whisky,  the  shop-keeper's  wife,  when  she 
can  not  dress  in  silk  and  fill  her  house  with  superfluous 
household  goods,  the  professional  man,  when  he  can  not 
accumulate  capital  sufficient  to  free  him  from  the  haunt- 
ing anxiety  in  regard  to  the  future  of  his  children  and  the 
support  of  his  declining  years.  This  poverty  is  evidently 
not  only  relative — the  shop-keeper's  wife  appearing  rich  in 
the  eyes  of  the  working  man,  the  professional  man 
considering  as  the  height  of  luxury,  what  would  seem 
shabby  to  those  brought  up  in  the  luxury  of  an  aristocratic 
home, — it  is  also  subjective,  as  it  only  exists  in  the  imag- 
ination of  the  individual  in  question  and  is  by  no  means 
an  objective,  appreciable  lack  of  the  indispensable  con- 
ditions of  existence,  entailing  suffering  upon  the  organism. 
In  short  it  is  not  physiological  poverty,  and  old  Diogenes 
proved  that  this  is  the  boundary  line  of  the  subjective 
sensation  of  happiness,  viz.  that  a  man  can  be  well  and 


196  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

comfortable  as  long  as  his  physical  wants  can  be  easily 
and  abundantly  gratified. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  a  man  of  this  civilization 
of  the  Nineteenth  Century,  who  is  a  slave  to  all  the  cus- 
toms and  wants  of  civilized  life,  the  great  majority  of 
mankind  appear  to  have  been  always  relatively  poor  in 
the  past,  growing  poorer  and  poorer  as  they  are  more  and 
more  removed  from  the  present.  The  clothing  was  coarser 

•and  less  frequently  renewed,  the  dwelling  places  were 
less  comfortable,  the  food  more  primitive,  the  utensils  less 
in  number,  there  was  less  money  in  circulation  and  less 
abundance  of  unnecessary  articles.  But  the  picture  of 
relative  poverty  is  not  affecting.  Only  an  empty-headed 
fool  could  find  anything  Magic  in  the  fact  that  an  Esqui- 
mau woman  protects  herself  from  the  cold  by  a  sack- 
shaped  garment  made  out  of  seal-skin  instead  of  a  com- 
plicated affair  cf  velvet  as  expensive  as  it  is  ungrace- 
ful. In  fact,  I  doubt  whether  the  sentimental  wish  ex- 
pressed by  that  good  king,  Henry  IV.  that  every  peasant 
might  have  a  chicken  in  his  kettle  every  Sunday,  would 
have  ever  touched  or  inspired  genuine  peasants  as  long 
as  they  could  eat  their  fill  of  pork.  But  absolute 
physiological  poverty  as  a  permanent  condition,  never 
has  appeared  except  as  a  consequence  of  the  highly  devel- 
oped and  unhealthy  state  of  civilization.  It  is  actually 
inconceivable  in  the  natural  condition  of  mankind  and 
even  at  a  lower  stage  of  social  development.  The  pro- 
curing of  sufficient  nourishment  is  the  chief  and  most  im- 
portant act  in  life  of  all  organic  beings,  from  the  polyp  to 
the  elephant,  from  the  bacteria  to  the  oak-tree.  If  it 
fails,  it  dies.  It  never  voluntarily  submits  to  the  perma- 
nent lack  of  nourishment.  This  is  a  biological  law,  gov- 
erning man  as  well  as  all  other  living  creatures.  A  primitive 

.  raan  does  not  accomodate   himself  to   circumstances   of 


PAUPERISM  A  RESULT  OF  CIVILIZATION.  197 

want  but  struggles  to  overcome  them.  If  he  is  a  hunter, 
and  the  game  leaves  his  usual  hunting  grounds,  he  starts 
in  search  of  others.  If  he  is  a  farmer  on  unproductive 
soil,  he  packs  up  and  emigrates  when  he  learns  of  more 
fertile  fields  that  he  can  get.  If  other  men  stand  between 
him  and  his  food,  he  takes  his  weapon  and  kills  them,  or 
is  killed  by  them.  Abundance  is  then  the  reward  of 
strength  and  courage.  So  the  tide  of  emigration  sets 
from  unfruitful  districts  into  those  blessed  by  the  sun ; 
the  heroism  of  a  Genseric,  of  an  Attila,  a  Ghengis  Khan 
and  a  William  of  Normandy,  has  its  origin  in  the  stomach, 
and  on  the  bloodiest  and  most  glorious  battle-fields,  which 
the  poets  sing  and  history  loves  to  dwell  upon,  the  ques- 
tion of  the  midday  meal  was  decided  by  the  iron  dice.  In 
short,  primitive  man  will  not  endure  genuine  poverty, 
that  is,  hunger.  He  takes  up  his  arms  against  the  en- 
croaching wretchedness  at  once  and  wrests  for  himself  the 
superabundance  of  the  enemy  or  dies  beneath  his  hatchet, 
before  he  perishes  of  privation.  Absolute  poverty  is  also 
incompatible  with  a  civilization  which  has  not  yet  passed 
beyond  the  standpoint  of  physiocracy.  As  long  as  a  peo- 
ple are  only  familiar  with  agriculture,  cattle-raising  and 
domestic  industries,  although  they  may  be  poor  in  money 
and  articles  of  luxury,  yet  the  necessaries  of  life  are 
within  the  reach  of  every  individual.  Only  when  man 
loses  his  direct  dependence  upon  food-producing  Mother 
Earth,  only  when  he  forsakes  the  furrow  in  the  field  and 
passes  beyond  the  reach  of  Nature  who  offers  him  bread 
and  fruits,  milk  and  honey,  game  and  fish,  only  when  he 
shuts  himself  up  behind  the  city  walls  and  gives,  up  his 
share  of  forest  and  stream,  procuring  his  food  and  drink 
no  longer  from  the  grand  store-house  of  the  animal  and 
vegetable  kingdoms,  but  by  an  exchange  of  the  products 
of  his  labor  for  the  gifts  of  nature  monopoli/ed  by  others, 


198  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

only  at  this  period  does  the  possibility  arise  for  a  small 
minority  of  persons  to  accumulate  great  wealth  and  for  a 
large  majority  to  sink  into  absolute  poverty,  physiological 
distress.  A  nation  which  consists  of  free  tillers  of  the 
soil,  is  never  poor.  It  can  only  become  so  by  the  subjec- 
tion of  the  farmer  into  a  slave,  working  for  another,  who 
deprives  him  of  the  results  of  his  labor  on  his  land,  or  else 
applies  his  labor  in  some  other  way  so  that  he  can  no  lon- 
ger till  the  land,  or  else  by  the  growth  and  increasing  num 
ber  of  cities,  absorbing  and  diminishing  the  agricultural 
public.  A  highly  developed  civilization  thus  condemns  a 
group  of  individuals  increasing  daily  in  numbers  and  im- 
portance, to  absolute  poverty.  The  cities  grow  at  the 
expense  of  the  farming  population.  It  favors  the  great 
manufacturing  industries  at  the  expense  of  animal  and 
vegetable  production,  and  produces  a  numerous  wages- 
receiving  class,  whose  members  can  not  call  a  single  inch 
of  ground  their  own  and  live  under  abnormal  conditions  of 
existence,  condemned  to  slow  starvation  the  day  that 
their  factory,  work-room  or  dock  yard  is  closed.  This  is 
the  point  to  which  all  the  countries  of  western  Europe 
have  arrived,  considered  to  be  the  wealthiest  and  most 
highly  civilized  in  the  world. 

Their  population  is  divided  into  a  small  minority, 
living  in  the  midst  of  an  aggressive  and  extreme  luxury, 
partly  attacked  by  a  very  frenzy  of  extravagance,  and  a 
great  mass,  consisting  of  persons  who  can  only  support 
life  by  the  hardest  exertions,  or  who  in  spite  of  all  their 
efforts,  find  it  impossible  to  attain  to  a  normal  human 
existence.  The  minority  is  daily  growing  richer,  the  con- 
trast between  its  life  and  that  of  the  millions  is  daily 
growing  more  decided,  its  importance  and  influence  in 
the  community  is  hourly  increasing.  When  we  are  speak- 
ing of  the  unprecedented,  foolish  extravagance  of  certain 


CONTRASTS  BETWEEN  RICH  AND  POOR.  199 

millionaires  and  billionaires  of  our  days,  some  self-con- 
ceited, wouid-be  historian  is  sure  to  interrupt  us  and  quote 
with  a  smile  of  compassion  for  our  ignorance,  the  words  of 
some  musty  old  writer  describing  the  extravagant  goings- 
on  in  Rome  under  the  Empire,  or  even  in  the  Middle 
Ages.  He  will  maintain  that  the  disproportion  between 
the  very  rich  and  the  very  poor  was  in  former  ages,  far 
greater  than  at  present.  But  it  is  all  only  a  trumped-up, 
learned  fraud.  There  never  was  a  fortune  in  the  Middle 
Ages  like  the  hundred  millions  of  a  Vanderbilt,  a  Baron 
Hirsch,  Rothschild,  Krupp  etc.,  as  we  know  them  today. 
In  ancient  times  such  an  amount  might  have  been  ac- 
cumulated by  some  favorite  of  a  tyrant,  or  a  satrap  or 
pro-consul,  by  plundering  a  country  or  a  continent,  but 
the  wealth  thus  amassed  had  no  permanence.  It  was  like 
the  treasures  in  the  fairy-tale.  Today  in  his  possession, 
tomorrow,  lost.  Its  owner  dreamed  a  few  hours,  and  was 
then  awakened  by  the  dagger  of  an  assassin,  the  per- 
secution of  his  sovereign  or  by  the  brutal  confiscation  of 
his  wealth.  There  is  not  a  single  example  of  the  descend- 
ance of  such  a  fortune  from  father  to  son  for  even  three 
generations,  or  the  calm  and  undisturbed  enjoyment  of  it  by 
the  possessor,  in  the  Roman  Empire  or  in  any  Oriental  state. 
And  in  former  times,  the  number  of  these  millionaires  and 
billionaires  was  incomparably  smaller  than  in  these  days, 
when,  in  England  alone,  there  are  from  eight  hundred  to 
a  thousand  millionaires,  and  in  Europe  altogether, — not 
counting  in  any  other  continent — there  are  at  least  a 
hundred  thousand  persons  with  fortunes  of  a  million  and 
over.  On  the  other  hand,  never  before  were  there  so 
many  property-less  individuals  as  at  present,  men  who 
according  to  my  definition  above,  do  not  know  in  the 
morning  what  they  can  get  to  eat  during  the  day,  nor 
where  they  can  sleep  at  night.  The  jslave  in  ancient 


200  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

Rome,  the  serf  in  Russia,  were  completely  without  pro- 
perty, as  in  fact  they  formed  part  of  the  property  of  their 
master,  but  their  actual  physical  wants  were  supplied, 
they  had  always  food  and  shelter.  During  the  Middle 
Ages  the  outcasts,  gypsies,  robbers,  strolling  players  and 
tramps  of  all  kinds  were  the  only  persons  without  the  pale 
of  property  holding.  They  could  call  nothing  on  earth 
their  own,  no  table  was  ever  set  for  them,  the  ruling- 
authorities  even  deprived  them  theoretically,  of  the  right 
to  look  upon  the  gifts  of  nature  as  spread  for  them.  They 
fought  their  way  out  of  the  wretchedness  in  which  the 
social  systems  of  their  day  sought  to  imprison  them,  by 
begging,  robbery  and  poaching,  and  even  if  the  gallows 
and  the  wheel  were  more  frequently  the  causes  of  their 
death  than  old  age,  they  had  notwithstanding,  a  full  and 
merry  life  up  to  the  very  steps  of  the  scaffold.  The 
modern  proletariat  or  lowest  wages-receiving  class,  has  no 
precedent  in  history.  It  is  the  child  of  our  times. 

The  modern  day-laborer  is  more  wretched  than  the 
slave  of  ancient  times,  for  he  is  fed  by  no  master  nor  any- 
one else,  and  if  his  position  is  one  of  more  liberty  than 
the  slave,  it  is  principally  the  liberty  of  dying  of  hunger. 
He  is  by  no  means  as  well  off  as  the  outlaw  of  the  Middle » 
Ages,  for  he  has  none  of  the  gay  independence  of  that 
free-lance.  He  seldom  rebels  against  society,  and  .has 
neither  means  nor  opportunities  to  take  by  violence  or 
treachery  what  is  denied  him  by  the  existing  conditions 
of  life.  The  rich  is  thus  richer,  the  poor  poorer,  than  ever 
before  since  the  beginnings  of  history.  The  same  thing 
is  true  of  the  extravagance  of  the  rich.  We  are  con- 
tinually being  bored  by  the  anecdotes  told  by  grubbers 
in  history,  as  to  the  wonderful  banquets  spread  by 
Lucullus.  But  it  remains  yet  to  be  proved  that  ancient 
Rome  ever  saw  a  feast  that  cost  $80.000,  like  the  ball 


EXTRAVAGANT  LUXURY  OF  THE  RICH.  201 

given  by  a  New  York  Croesus,  of  which  the  newspapers 
have  been  giving  us  accounts  recently.  A  private  indiv- 
idual who  set  before  his  guests  dishes  made  of  night- 
ingales' tongues,  or  presented  a  hundred  thousand  sester- 
tia  to  some  Grecian  hetera,  made  such  a  stir  and  com- 
motion in  Rome  that  all  the  satirists  and  chroniclers  of 
those  and  afterdays  repeated  his  name  again  and  again. 
Nowadays  no  one  speaks  of  the  thousands  upon  thousands 
who  pay  $40.000  for  a  set  of  china,  $100.000  for  a  race- 
horse or  let  some  adventuress  spend  a  million  for  them  in 
a  year.  The  extravagant  luxury  of  the  ancient  world  and 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  aroused  attention  and  astonishment 
by  its  rarity.  Besides  it  had  the  modesty  to  limit  its  dis- 
play to  a  comparatively  small  circle.  Vae  masses  saw 
nothing  of  it.  Nowadays  the  insolent  parade  of  the 
wealthy  is  not  confined  to  the  ball-rooms  and  banquet 
halls  of  their  set,  but  flaunts  along  the  streets.  The 
places  where  their  aggressive  luxury  is  most  prominently 
displayed  are  the  promenades  of  the  large  cities,  the 
theatres  and  concert  halls,  the  watering  places  and  the 
races.  Their  carriages  drive  along  the  streets  splashing 
mud  on  the  bare-footed,  'hungry  crowd,  their  diamonds 
never  seem  to  sparkle  with  such  brilliancy  as  when  they 
are  dazzling  the  eyes  of  the  poor.  Their  extravagance 
loves  to  have  journalism  as  a  spectator  and  delights  to 
send  descriptions  of  its  luxury  by  the  columns  of  the 
papers  into  circles  which  otherwise  would  have  no  oppor- 
tunity to  observe  the  life-long  carnival  of  the  rich.  By 
these  means  an  opportunity  of  comparison  is  given  the 
modern  wages-receiver  which  was  wan  ting  to  the  poor  man 
of  ancient  times.  The  lavish  squandering  of  wealth  that 
he  witnesses  around  him,  gives  him  an  exact  measure  by 
which  to  gauge  his  own  wretchedness,  in  all  its  extent 
and  depth,  with  mathematical  precision.  But  as  relative 


#02  THE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

poverty  is  only  an  evil  when  it  is  recognized  as  such  by 
comparison  with  others,  the  millionaires  are  exceedingly 
unwise  to  flaunt  their  luxury  in  the  eyes  of  the  poor, 
whose  misery  is  sharpened  by  the  contrast.  The  uncon- 
cealed spectacle  of  their  existence  of  idleness  and  enjoy- 
ment, arouses  necessarily  the  discontent  and  envy  of  the 
laboring  classes  and  this  moral  poison  corrodes  theii 
minds  far  more  rapidly  and  deeply  than  their  material  de- 
privations. 

But  these  material  deprivations  must  not  be  under- 
estimated. The  great  masses  of  the  poor  in  civilized 
countries  maintain  thoir  bare  existence  under  conditions 
worse  than  those  of  any  animal  in  tk  wilderness.  The 
dwelling  place  of  the  day-laborer  in  a  large  city  of  the 
old  world,  is  far  more  filthy  and  unhealthy  than  the  den 
of  a  beast  of  prey  in  the  forcct  It  is  by  far  less  perfectly 
protected  against  the  cold  than  the  latter.  His  food  is 
barely  sufficient  to  sustain  life,  and  death  from  actual 
starvation  is  of  daily  occurrence  in  the  capitals  of  the 
world.  The  writers  on  political  economy  have  invented 
a  phrase  to  quiet  the  uneasy  conscience  of  the  rich — the 
"iron  law  of  wages."  According  to  this  law  the  wages 
paid  in  any  locality  are  at  least  what  is  actually  necessary 
to  support  life  there.  In  other  words,  the  laborer  is  cer- 
tain of  earning  sufficient  to  satisfy  his  actual  necessities, 
even  if  he  has  no  surplus.  This  would  be  very  fine  if  it 
•vere  only  sustained  by  facts.  If  it  were  true,  the  rich 
man  could  say  to  himself,  morning  and  evening,  that 
everything  is  arranged  for  the  best  in  this  best  of  all 
possible  worlds,  and  no  one  would  have  a  right  to  disturb 
his  digestion  and  his  nightly  rest  by  groans  and  curses 
But  the  misfortune  is,  that  this  famous  iron  law  of  wages 
is  only  a  Jesuitical  play  upon  words.  At  the  best,  it  does 
not  apply  to  those  who  can  not  procure  work  at  all.  And 


POVERTY  OP  THE  WAGES-RECEIVIXG  CLASS.          203 

during  the  time  when  he  has  really  work  to  do,  it  is  im- 
possible for  the  laboring  man  in  western  Europe,  to  earn 
enough  so  that  he  can  have  anything  left  over  for  days 
when  he  is  out  of  work.  He  is  thus  reduced  to  beggary 
during  part  of  the  year,  or  to  a  gradual  physical  decline 
from  lack  of  sufficient  nourishment.  But  the  iron  wage- 
law  does  not  apply  even  to  the  amount  of  daily  wages 
earned  by  those  actually  employed.  What  is  the  mini- 
mum of  income  that  will  support  an  individual?  Evidently 
it  is  that  which  will  keep  his  system  in  a  good  condition, 
and  allow  him  to  develope  fully  and  attain  to  the  natural 
limit  of  his  life.  As  soon  as  he  attempts  more  than  his 
system  is  capable  of  enduring,  or  gets  less  food,  warmth 
and  sleep  than  his  system  requires  to  remain  at  the  sum- 
mit of  its  type,  then  he  falls  into  physiological  distress. 
Overwork  is  as  equally  the  cause  of  organic  decline  as  in- 
sufficient food,  but  the  latter  is  synonymous  with  slow 
starvation. 

If  the  iron  wage-law  were  actually  what  it  pretends 
to  be,  then  the  wages-receiver  would  earn  sufficient  to 
bring  his  organism  to  and  maintain  it  in  that  condition  of 
development  to  which  it  is  possible  for  it  to  attain,  by  the 
natural  laws  of  its  being.  But  experience  shows  us  that 
the  day-laborer  finds  this  impossible  anywhere  in  Europe. 
The  optimistic  political  economist  points  with  triumph  to 
his  iron  wage-law,  when  he  sees  that  the  wages-receiver 
does  not  drop  dead  of  hunger  at  the  close  of  his  day's 
work,  but  fills  his  stomach  with  potatoes,  smokes  his  pipe, 
drinks  his  whiskey  and  persuades  himself  that  he  is  satis- 
fied and  comfortable.  But  then  comes  the  science  of 
statistics  and  shows  us  that  the  average  length  of  life  of 
the  wages-receiving  class  is  a  third  and  in  some  cases  a 
half,  less  than  that  of  the  well-to-do  individuals  of  the 
same  nation,  living  under  the  same  conditions  of  climate 


5J04  THE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

and  upon  the  same  soil.  What  robs  the  wages-receiver 
of  the  years  of  life  to  which  as  son  of  a  given  race  and  in- 
habitant of  a  given  country,  he  is  entitled?  Hunger, 
wretchedness,  want  of  all  kinds,  these  slowly  undermine 
his  health  and  weaken  his  constitution.  The  wages  he 
receives  are  also,  at  best,  merely  sufficient  to  protect  him 
from  pressing  hunger  and  cold,  they  do  not  avert  the 
gradual  wasting  away  of  his  whole  being,  from  insufficient 
food,  clothing  and  rest.  The  statistics  of  the  records  of 

'  O 

disease  and  death  among  the  laboring  classes  of  Europe, 
brand  the  "iron  law  of  wages"  as  an  infamous  lie. 

The  portrait  of  the  economic  organization  of  society 
would  not  be  complete  if  I  omitted  to  describe  along  with 
the  recklessly  extravagant  millionaire  and  the  laboring 
man,  condemned  inexorably  to  disease  and  an  early  death, 
another  class  of  beings  who  play  in  our  present  con- 
ditions of  social  life,  nearly  as  melancholy  a  role  as  the 
industrial  slaves  of  the  great  city.  These  are  the  culti- 
vated men  without  any  regular  income,  who  have  to  sup- 
port themselves  by  intellectual  labor.  The  supply  exceeds 
the  demand  in  this  branch  of  labor,  to  a  frightful  degree. 
The  so-called  liberal  professions  are  everywhere  so  over- 
crowded that  those  who  seek  in  them  a  livelihood,  trample 
upon  each  other  until  the  struggle  for  existence  assumes 
in  them  the  gravest  and  most  hideous  phases.  Those  un- 
fortunates whose  efforts  are  directed  to  obtaining  a  public 
or  private  situation,  a  position  to  teach,  or  success  in  art, 
literature,  the  law,  medicine,  civil  engineering,  etc.,  are 
capable  of  appreciating  their  wretchedness  in  a  greater 
degree,  on  account  of  their  higher  intellectual  develop- 
ment. Their  intimate  intercourse  with  those  more  pros- 
perous keeps  the  picture  of  wealth  constantly  before 
them,  side  by  side  with  that  of  their  own  poverty,  -#hich 
is  thus  never  forgotten.  Social  prejudices  require  them 


OVERCROWDING  OF  THE  LIBERAL  PROFESSIONS.      205 

to  gain  their  livelihood  in  a  way  which  without  being  hy. 
gienically  preferable,  lays  far  greater  burdens  upon  their 
shoulders  than  those  borne  by  the  day-laborer.  The  price 
paid  for  prosperity  in  their  career  is  constant  humiliations, 
suppression  of  then- true  character  and  denial  of  their  own 
individuality,  a  yoke  more  galling  to  a  nature  of  true  nobilit* 
than  material  want.  Owing  to  the  fact  that  these  persona 
are  capable  of  suffering  more  intensely,  they  bear  with  even 
more  impatience  than  the  wages-receiving  class,  the  bur- 
dens imposed  upon  them  by  the  internal  economy  of  society 
and  property  holding.  Those  among  them  whose  efforts 
have  not  met  with  success,  are  looked  down  upon  by  the 
man  of  wealth,  who  calls  them  failures,  and  affects  to  de- 
spise them.  But  these  "failures"  are  the  intrepid  van-guard 
of  the  army  that  is  besieging  the  proud  fortress  of  society 
and  that  sooner  or  later  will  raze  it  to  the  ground. 


II 

Let  us  analyze  more  closely  the  separate  elements  of 
the  picture  we  have  just  been  drawing.  We  have  seen 
the  rich  man  revelling  in  superabundance  without  labor, 
the  factory-hand,  day-laborer,  condemned  to  physical  de- 
cay and  the  intellectual  laborer  trampled  to  death  in  the 
deadly  competition.  Let  us  turn  our  light  upon  the 
minority,  the  wealth  possessing  class.  What  are  the 
sources  of  the  riches  of  the  men  who  compose  this  minor- 
ity? They  have  either  made  them  for  themselves,  or  in- 
creased what  they  received  by  inheritance,  or  else  limit 
their  efforts  to  retaining;  what  they  have  inherited.  I  will 
discuss  this  matter  of  inheritance  at  length  farther  on, 
only  remarking  here  that  man  is  the  only  living  being 
who  carries  the  natural  care  for  his  offspring — one  of  the 
manifestation*  of  the  instinct  for  the  preservation  of  the 


20R  THK  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

race — to  such  an  extreme,  that  he  wishes  to  remove  the 
necessity  of  providing  for  themselves  not  only  from  those 
of  the  next  generation  until  their  maturity,  but  from  his 
most  remote  posterity,  during  their  entire  lives.  The  in- 
crease of  inherited  property  usually  takes  place  without 
the  slightest  interference  on  the  part  of  the  owner,  and  is 
certainly  not  the  result  of  his  labor.  The  large  and  ancient 
fortunes  consist  mostly  of  real  estate.  The  value  of  the  land 
and  of  the  buildings  rises  every  year  and  the  income  from 
them  increases  in  proportion  to  the  growth  of  civilization. 
The  products  of  the  manufacturing  industries  become 
cheaper,  provisions  dearer  and  the  dwelling  places  in  the 
constantly  increasing  cities  more  cramped  and  expensive. 
Some  political  economists  deny  that  provisions  are  grow- 
ing dearer.  But  they  can  only  bring  sophistical  argu- 
ments to  support  their  assertion.  It  is  true  that  in  days 
of  more  restricted  commercial  intercourse,  famine  and 
starvation  were  more  frequent,  and  a  failure  of  crops  in 
certain  places  was  succeeded  by  such  an  extortionate 
price  for  the  cereals  as  would  be  today  inconceivable. 
The  rapidity  and  extent  of  the  variations  in  the  cost  o.' 
provisions  in  ^1:3  past,  has  ceased,  but  the  average  price 
of  meat  and  farm  produce  is  constantly  rising,  and  this 
rise  is  only  retarded  not  prevented,  by  the  short-sighted 
policy  of  skinning  the  enormous  tracts  of  virgin  soil  in 
America  and  Australia.  The  day  is  not  far  distant  when 
this  piratical  cultivation  of  the  soil  in  the  new  continents 
must  come  to  an  end;  the  plough  will  find  no  more  un- 
claimed lands  to  conquer.  Then  the  cost  of  provisions 
will  rise  beyond  measure,  while  the  continual  improve- 
ments made  in  machinery,  and  the  constantly  increasing 
utilization  of  the  forces  of  nature  now  and  yet  to  be  dis- 
covered, will  cause  the  price  of  all  manufactured  goods  to 
fall  in  proportion.  This  two-fold  current  in  the  economic 


THE  RICH  GROWING  RICHER,  THE  POOR  POORER.      207 

world,  the  upward  tendency  of  the  prices  of  provisions  and 
the  downward  tendency  of  the  prices  of  manufactured 
products,  continues  to  increase  the  wealth  of  the  land- 
owner and  the  poverty  of  the  factory  employe.  The  latter 
is  obliged  to  produce  a  constantly  increasing  number  of 
manufactured  goods  to  exchange  for  the  agricultural  pro- 
ducts necessary  to  sustain  life;  the  former  receives  in  re- 
turn for  his  farm  produce  a  constantly  increasing  number 
of  manufactured  articles.  The  factory-employ^  finds  it 
more  and  more  difficult  to  satisfy  his  wants,  the  land- 
owner is  able  to  enjoy  more  and  more  of  the  results  of 
the  former's  labor.  The  number  of  proletaires  grows 
daily  larger,  toiling  for  the  land-owner,  who  is  thus  prac- 
tically their  lord  and  master.  The  wealth  of  the  inheritor 
of  land  and  houses  is  not  increased  by  his  own  efforts,  but 
by  the  faulty  organization  of  the  conditions  of  land- 
ownership  according  to  the  present  economy  of  society. 
According  to  these  conditions,  the  land,  the  natural  work- 
ing-cool of  mankind,  is  placed  in  the  hands  of  a  few,  and 
as  a  consequence  the  lowest  classes,  robbed  of  their  share 
of  the  soil,  are  obliged  to  crowd  into  the  great  cities. 

New  fortunes  are  accumulated  by  trade,  speculation 
or  manufactures.  We  will  pass  by  the  extremely  rare 
cases  in  which  a  man  with  the  co-operation  of  chance,  at- 
tains to  great  wealth  by  discovering  some  gold  and  dia- 
mond mine  or  petroleum  springs  and  is  able  to  retain  and 
work  them  for  his  exclusive  benefit.  At'the  same  time, 
thanks  to  the  existing  ideas  of  property  ownership,  these 
exceptional  cases  have  a  certain  theoretical  value  as  con- 
futations of  another  so-called  scientific  axiom  of  the  doc- 
trines of  political  economy,  viz.  that  capital  is  in  all  cases, 
accumulated  labor.  What  labor  does  a  diamond  of  the 
size  of  the  Koh-i-Noor  represent,  which  some  adventurer 
may  find  on  the  ground  in  South  Africa  and  sell  for  a 


208  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

million?  The  economist  is  ready  with  his  answer:  the  gem 
is  certainly  the  result  of  labor,  that  is,  of  the  labor  per- 
formed by  the  finder  in  stooping  and  picking  it  up.  The 
established  science  accepts  this  explanation  with  a  satis- 
fied acquiescence  and  proclaims  the  theory  to  be  saved. 
A  sound  human  intellect  however,  refuses  to  accept  this 
would-be  science,  which  is  invented  by  blockheads,  foi 
blockheads,  with  the  purpose  of  ornamenting  and  excusing 
in  empty,  flowery  terms,  the  injustice  of  the  present  sys- 
tems of  political  economy. 

Legitimate  trade,  that  is.  the  equitable  exchange  of 
the  raw  materials  and  the  finished  products  between  the 
producer  and  the  consumer  by  means  of  a  third  person,  the 
trader,  who  makes  a  profit  on  the  goods  he  handles,  giving 
them  to  the  last  buyer  at  a  larger  or  smaller  increase  in  the 
selling  price  over  the  cost,  in  these  days  rarely  leads  to 
the  accumulation  of  great  wealth.  There  are  too  many 
people  who  are  satisfied  if  they  have  the  wherewithall  ta 
support  life,  or  can  lay  by  a  moderate  amount,  and  the 
competition  for  the  custom  of  the  consumer  is  too  great, 
for  a  tradesman  to  amass  an  especially  large  fortune  ex> 
cept  in  isolated  instances.  The  general  tendency  of  the 
wholesale  and  retail  trade  is  to  suppress  all  unnecessary 
middle-men,  to  place  the  consumer  in  as  direct  intercourse 
with  the  producer  as  is  possible,  and  to  reduce  the  profits 
of  the  middle-men,  to  an  amount  only  sufficient  to  cover 
their  necessary  expenses  of  handling  the  goods,  and  supply 
them  with  the  necessaries  of  life.  The  merchants'  profits 
can  of  course  become  much  greater,  even  extortionate,  if 
he  is  able  to  limit  or  suppress  free  competition.  If  any 
one  can  obtain  salable  goods  under  difficult  conditions  or 
dangers,  in  Central  Africa,  or  among  the  wild  tribes  of 
Asia,  he  can  sell  them  at  a  very  great  profit,  because  the 
number  of  those  who  are  ready  to  venture  life  and  health 


SOURCES  OP  GKKAT  WEALTH.  209 

for  the  sake  of  possible  wealth,  is  comparatively  small,  and 
he  has,  for  a  while,  a  free  field  of  operations.  But  the  un- 
disturbed possession  of  such  a  profitable  trade  does  not 
last  very  long,  as  the  dangers  and  difficulties  decrease  in 
proportion  as  the  country  becomes  better  known,  and  the 
opening  of  other  countries,  formerly  inaccessible  to  foreign 
trade,  brings  them  under  the  laws  which  govern  general 
competition.  In  twenty  or  thirty  years  this  source  of  great 
wealth  would  be  sealed  up.  Central  Africa,  Asia  and  China 
will  be  reached  as  easily  and  safely  as  any  European  or 
American  country;  the  merchants  will  be  obliged  to  pay 
as  dearly  there  and  sell  to  consumers  as  cheaply  as  is 
possible  without  actual  loss.  The  trade  in  Congo  ivory 
and  Chinese  cotton  will  then  realize  profits  no  more 
abundant  than  those  we  are  accustomed  to  at  home. 

Enormous  profits  can  also  be  made  by  a  single  dealer, 
or  close  combination  of  dealers,  if  they  are  able  to  control 
some  indispensable  article,  to  monopolize  its  sale,  so  that 
the  purchaser  can  only  receive  it  from  their  hands.  He 
must  resign  himself  to  the  alternative  of  doing  without  it, 
or  paying  the  price  charged  for  it  by  the  robber  band. 
But  this  proceeding  does  not  come  within  the  limits  of 
legitimate  trade;  it  is  an  act  of  violence  which  the  laws  of 
certain  countries  (France,  for  instance),  regard  and  punish 
as  a  crime.  It  brings  us  to  the  second  source  of  enormous 
fortunes,  speculation. 

Speculation  is  one  of  the  most  intolerable  and  re- 
volting manifestations  of  disease  in  the  economic  organ- 
ism. Those  profound  sages  who  maintain  that  everything 
that  exists,  is  superexcellent,  have  also  attempted  to  de- 
fend speculation,  to  justify  it,  to  assert  its  necessity 
even  to  enthusiasm.  I  will  immediately  prove  to  the* 
panegyrists  what  the  principle  is,  whose  cause  they  are 
espousing.  The  speculator  plays  in  the  economic  world 


210  THE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

the  role  of  a  parasite.  He  produces  nothing,  he  does  not 
even  perform  the  questionable  service  of  mediator,  per- 
formed by  the  merchant.  He  confines  himself  to  taking 
away  from  the  real  workers,  by  stealth  or  violence,  the 
largest  part  of  the  proceeds  of  their  labor.  The  speculator 
is  a  robber  who  robs  the  producers  of  the  articles  produced 
by  forcing  them  to  accept  inadequate  compensation  for 
their  toil,  and  the  consumers,  by  forcing  them  to  buy 
from  him  at  an  enormous  advance.  The  weapon  with 
which  he  falls  upon  producers  and  consumers  like  a  high- 
wayman, is  double-barrelled,  and  is  called  elevation  and 
depression  of  prices,  or  cornering  the  markets.  He 
makes  use  of  this  murderous  implement  in  the  following 
manner.  vVTien  his  intention  is  to  plunder  the  producer, 
he  begins  to  sell  certain  goods  that  he  does  not  possess, 
at  a  price  lower  than  the  current  market  rates,  promising 
to  deliver  them  to  the  purchasers  a  fortnight,  a  month  or 
three  months  later  than  the  date  of  sale.  The  purchaser 
of  course,  buys  of  the  speculator  because  he  asks  lower 
prices.  The  producer  now  has  only  two  courses  open  to 
him.  If  he  is  rich  enough  to  carry  his  goods  without  sel- 
ing  until  the  day  arrives  when  the  speculator  is  obliged  to 
deliver  those  he  has  guaranteed  to  the  purchaser,  then 
the  speculator  will  not  (be  able  to  get  the  goods  at  as  low 
prices  as  he  had  hoped,  and  will  be  obliged  to  buy  them 
at  the  producer's  price,  and  lose  money  upon  them, 
thus  being  robbed  instead  of  robbing.  But  if  the  pro- 
ducer can  not  do  this,  and  this  is  by  far  the  most  frequent 
case,  then  he  is  forced  to  sell  his  goods  immediately  at 
such  prices  as  the  goods  will  bring  in  the  market.  He 
must  underbid  the  speculator,  who  then  becomes  his  pur- 
chaser, for  the  consumer  has  already  ordered  what  he 
wants  from  the  speculator.  Thus  when  the  time  comes 
for  him  to  deliver  the  goods,  he  is  able  to  buy  them  of 


SPECULATION.  211 

the  producer  at  a  lower  price  even  than  the  one  contrac- 
ted for. 

The  producer  may  have  become  bankrupt  by  the 
operation,  but  the  speculator  has  got  his  pound  of  flesh 
and  is  happy.  If  his  aim  is  to  plunder  the  consumer  then 
he  buys  up  all  the  available  goods  offered  of  a  certain 
kind  at  the  producer's  price.  He  can  do  this  without 
trouble  as  the  transaction  does  not  cost  him  a  single 
penny;  he  pays  for  his  purchase,  not  in  cash,  but  in  pro- 
mises. He  need  not  settle  his  account  for  weeks  or  months, 
as  the  case  may  be.  Thus  without  real  possession,  frequently 
without  going  to  the  expense  of  a  single  dollar,  the  spec- 
ulator becomes  owner  of  the  goods,  and  if  the  consumer 
wishes  to  buy  any  of  them  he  must  apply  to  the  speculator 
arid  pay  the  price  he  demands.  The  speculator  receives 
into  one  hand  the  money  given  him  by  the  consumer  and 
after  abstracting  a  portion  as  large  as  possible,  which  he 
puts  into  his  own  pocket,  he  hands  over  the  remainder 
with  the  other  hand  to  the  producer.  In  this  way  the 
speculator,  without  labor,  without  benefiting  the  com- 
munity, becomes  wealthy  and  influential.  Capital  extends 
to  him  the  highest  favor,  unlimited  credit.  When 
some  poor  fellow  of  a  working  man  wants  to  start  in  busi- 
ness for  himself,  he  meets  with  the  utmost  difficulty  in 
borrowing  the  small  sum  he  requires  to  purchase  his  tools 
and  raw  material,  and  to  support  himself  until  the  sale  of 
his  first  productions.  But  when  some  idler  with  sufficient 
audacity  decides  to  live  upon  the  labor  of  others  and 
wants  to  carry  on  some  speculative  buying  and  selling  on 
a  large  scale,  both  producers  and  consumers  place  them- 
selves at  his  disposal,  without  waiting  even  to  be  en- 
treated. They  say  that  they  run  no  risks;  the  credit  de- 
manded only  exists  in  theory.  The  producer  does  not  give 
up  his  goods;  he  only  promises  to  deliver  them  on  a  cer- 


212  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

tain  day  at  a  certain  price,  of  course  only  upon  the  receipt 
of  cash.  The  consumer  on  the  other  hand,  does  not  pay 
down  the  purchase  price,  but  only  agrees  to  pay  it  on  the 
day  that  the  goods  are  delivered  to  him.  This  theoretical 
credit  is  sufficient  however,  for  the  speculator  to  create 
for  himself,  out  of  nothing,  the  most  scandalous  wealth. 

Every  working  man,  every  one  without  exception,  is 
tributary  to  the  speculator.  All  our  wants  are  foreseen, 
all  the  necessary  articles  of  our  consumption  are  bought 
up  beforehand  by  speculators,  on  credit,  and  sold  to  us  as 
dear  as  possible,  for  cash.  We  can  not  eat  a  bit  of  bread, 
nor  lay  down  to  rest  beneath  our  roof,  nor  invest  out 
savings  in  stocks,  without  paying  to  the  speculators  in 
bread-stuffs,  in  land  and  buildings  and  Stock  Exchanges, 
their  assessments.  The  tarss  which  we  pay  to  the  State 
are  oppressive,  but  by  no  means  so  oppressive  as  those 
exacted  from  us  by  speculation.  Certain  persons  have 
ventured  to  defend  the  Stock  and  Grain  Exchanges  as 
necessary  and  useful  institutions.  It  is  a  miracle  that  they 
were  not  suffocated  by  the  enormity  of  their  assertions. 
What,  the  Exchanges  of  the  world  useful  and  necessary? 
Have  they  ever  kept  within  the  limits  of  their  legitimate 
business?  Are  they  ever  simply  the  meeting  place  of  the 
bona  fide  purchaser  and  the  bona  fide  seller,  where  hon- 
est demand  and  honest  supply  can  come  together  and 
transact  their  business.  The  simile  comparing  the  Com- 
mercial Exchange  to  a  poison  tree,  is  incomplete,  because 
it  only  symbolizes  one  phase  of  the  transactions  carried  on 
/there,  their  effect  upon  the  moral  nature  of  the  people. 
The  Exchange  is  a  den  of  robbers  in  which  the  modern 
successors  of  the  robber  knights  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
make  their  abode  and  cut  the  throats  of  all  who  pass  that 
way.  Like  the  robber  knights  they  form  a  kind  of  aristoc- 
racy, which  gets  a  handsome  livelihood  out  of  the  people. 


PANICS.  213 

Like  the  robber  knights  they  claim  the  right  to  exact 
contributions  from  the  merchants  and  artisans.  But,  more 
fortunate  than  the  robber  knights,  they  run  no  risk  of 
being  hung  high  and  dry,  if  a  stronger  than  they  comes 
upon  them  in  their  high-handed  course  of  purse-slashing. 
We  sometimes  console  ourselves  with  the  reflection 
that  speculators  in  times  of  panic  are  sure  to  lose  at  on* 
stroke  all  that  they  have  been  accumulating  in  the  years 
of  unchecked  robbery.  But  this  is  a  pleasing  delusion 
with  which  the  pastor's  lambs  try  to  comfort  themselves, 
who  like  to  see  punishment  follow  crime  as  the  finis. 
Even  if  a  panic  does  force  a  speculator  to  disgorge  his  ill- 
gotten  gains,  it  can  not  alter  the  fact  that  for  many  years 
perhaps,  he  has  been  living  in  the  lap  of  luxury,  at  the 
expense  of  the  laboring  members  of  the  community.  He 
may  lose  his  property  at  such  a  time,  but  no  power  on 
earth  can  deprive  him  of  the  champagne  which  has  been 
flowing  in  streams  for  him,  nor  of  the  truffles  he  has  eaten, 
the  piles  of  gold  he  has  gambled  away  on  the  green  cloth, 
nor  of  the  hours  he  has  spent  in  all  kinds  of  pleasures 
only  possible  to  the  rich.  Besides,  a  panic  is  only  dis- 
astrous to  single,  isolated  speculators,  not  to  speculation 
in  general.  On  the  contrary  panics  are  the  great  harvest 
oi  speculation,  the  opportunities  .for  the  slaughter  of  the 
entire  saving  and  producing  classes  in  a  nation  or  in  a 
continent,  en  masse.  Then  the  few  great  capitals,  the 
enormous  fortunes,  open  their  jaws  and  swallow  not  only 
the  whole  property  of  the  investment-seeking  public,  but 
also  that  of  the  small  robber  capitalists,  whom  they 
usually  good-naturedly  allow  to  play  around  them,  look- 
ing on  like  the  lion  at  the  mouse's  gambols.  Great  depre- 
ciations of  values  are  usually  brought  about  and  utilized 
by  the  financial  giants.  They  then  buy  up  everything 
that  has  value  and  a  future,  to  sell  it  again  when  the 


214  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

storm  has  passed  away  and  the  skies  are  blue,  at  an 
enormous  profit  to  the  very  same  people  who  have  just 
sold  it  at  such  ridiculous  prices.  They  buy  it  up  again 
during  the  next  panic,  at  the  same  low  rates,  and  play  the 
cruel  game  as  often  as  a  few  years  of  peaceful  industry 
have  refilled  the  emptied  money  drawers  of  the  producing 
classes.  Financial  crises  are  simply  the  piston  strokes  with 
which  the  capitalists  pump  the  savings  of  the  Industrial 
classes  into  their  own  reservoirs. 

The  advocates  of  speculating  say  that  the  speculator 
plays  an  important  and  necessary  role  in  the  great  drama 
of  political  economy;  that  his  gains  are  the  results  of  super- 
ior sagacity,  deeper  insight,  prompter  decision  and  more 
adventurous  daring.  This  argnment  pleases  me;  let  us 
seize  and  examine  it.  Therefore,  because  the  speculator 
has  means  of  information  at  his  disposal  which  are  inac- 
cessible to  the  general  public,  because  he  has  less  dread  of 
losses  than  the  prudent  and  honest  man,  and  takes  ad- 
vantage of  all  possibilities  in  a  more  underhanded  way, 
he  has  a  right  to  take  away  from  the  laboring  classes  the 
results  of  their  labor,  and  allow  it  to  accumulate  f<  >r  him- 
self,  while  he  takes  his  ease.  This  right  is  consequently 
based  upon  the  fact  that  he  has  better  weapons — his 
sources  of  information,  greater  courage — as  he  hazards 
only  the  money  of  others,  and  superior  strength  of  judg- 
ment and  intelligence.  Now  let  us  see  if  the  poorer 
classes  have  not  even  better  weapons — rifles  and  dynamite 
bombs,  greater  courage — as  they  are  willing  to  risk  their 
lives,  and  superior  strength — of  bone  and  sinew.  If  this  is 
the  case,  and  it  is,  the  advocates  of  speculation  must  concede 
to  the  laboring  classes  the  right  of  taking  away  from  the 
speculators  the  results  of  their  so-called  labor.  If  they  do 
not  concede  this  right  to  the  one  class  as  well  as  to  the 
other,  then  the  theory  upon  which  the  justification  of 


MANUFACTURERS'  PROFITS.  215 

speculation  is  based,  is  a  lie. 

The  third  source  of  great  wealth  is  manufacturing  on 
a  large  scale.  In  this  case  the  owner  or  borrower  of 
capital  plunders  his  employes  who  sell  him  their  daily 
labor.  The  difference  between  the  actual  value  of  this 
daily  labor,  as  expressed  in  the  price  of  the  articles  it  pro- 
duces and  the  wages  paid  for  it,  forms  the  profit  of  the 
manufacturer,  allowing  of  course,  for  raw  material  and  other 
running  expenses.  In  most  cases  this  difference  is  out  of  all 
proportion  and  usuriously  exorbitant  compared  with  the 
wagss.  It  is  often  spoken  of  as  the  reward  of  the  manu- 
facturer's mental  exertions.  But  the  reply  can  be  made 
to  this  assertion  that  the  mental  labor  required  to  manage 
the  technical  and  mercantile  interests  of  a  large  factory, 
bears  no  comparison  to  that  necessary  in  scientific  inves- 
tigations or  literary  productions  and  at  the  highest  can 
only  be  ranked  with  that  required  in  a  public  office  or  the 
executorship  of  an  estate.  And  yet  the  results  of  the 
mental  exertions  of  these  latter  are  by  no  means  so 
remunerative  as  the  annual  income  of  the  great  manufac- 
ture!-. The  profits  of  manufacturers  can  not  be  looked 
upon  as  mere  interest  on  the  capital  employed,  because 
no  manufacturer  is  content  to  sell  his  goods  at  a  price 
which  would  bring  him  in  a  net  income  of  four  to  six  per 
cent,  after  all  the  expenses  and  the  pay  for  his  mental 
exertion  had  been  deducted.  This  per  cent  is  obtained 
by  anyone  on  investments  without  risk,  even  by  the  man 
of  leisure.  The  price  at  which  the  manufacturer  sells  his 
goods  is  regulated  on  the  one  hand  by  the  amount  of 
competition  with  other  manufacturers  with  which  he  has  to 
contend,  and  on  the  other  hand,  by  the  larger  or  smaller 
supply  of  labor.  His  first  care  is  to  pay  his  employes  as 
little  as  possible,  his  next,  to  sell  to  the  purchaser  as  dear 
as  possible.  When  the  supply  of  laborers  allows  him  to 


21€  THB  BCONOMIC  LIB. 

hire  labor  at  the  lowest  prices,  and  the  absence  of  compe- 
tition or  other  circumstances,  make  it  possible  for   him  to 
sell  his  manufactured  articles  at  a  very  high  price,  he  does 
not  entertain  the  idea  of  limiting  his  income  to  six  or  ten 
per  cent,  but  he  bends  all  his  energies  to  making  a  hun- 
dred or  even  more  per  cent   on   the   capital   employed. 
The  advocates  of  this  plundering  of  labor  by  Capital  say 
that  the  division  of  this  net  income  of  the  factory  between 
the  capitalist  and  the  laborer  would  only  keep  the  former 
poor,  while  raising  the  wages  of  the  latter  so  slightly  as 
to  be  immaterial,  amounting  to  merely  a  few  pennies  a 
day,  divided  among  so  many.     A  noble,  a  modest  argu- 
ment  forsooth'    ft   is   possible   that  the   wages-receiver 
might  receive  only  a  few  pennies  more  a  day,  if  he  were 
able  to  retain  for  himself  all  the  fruits  of  his  daily  labor. 
But  by  what  right  is  he  obliged  to  present  his  employer 
with  even  the  tiniest  share  of  his  daily  earnings,  when  the 
employer  has  already  the  interest  on  his  capital  and  a  suf- 
ficient remuneration  for  his  problematical  mental  labor? 
Let  us  imagine  for  a  moment  that  every  inhabitant  of  tiie 
German  Empire  were  forced  by  law  to  pay  a  penny  every 
year  to  some  Smith  or  Meyer,  not  in  return  for  any  ser- 
vices performed,  nor  in  gratitude  for  "ny  benefit  he  might 
have  rendered  to  the  community,  but  as  a  simple  present. 
The  favored  individual  would  thus  be  ensured  a  yearly 
income  of  about  a  hundred  thousand  dollars;  but  none  of 
the  contributors  would  feel  the  loss  of  their  penny.     One 
penny!  that  is  such  a  small  amount  that  it  is  not  worth  the 
trouble  of  speaking  about  it.     And  yet  such  a  law  would 
elicit  from  the  entire  nation   a  cry   of  indignation,   and 
every  citizen  would  revolt  against  its  arbitrary  injustice. 
But  the  economical  law  which  obliges  the  poorest  part  of 
the  nation,  the  factory  employe's,  to  present  to  this  same 
Smith  or  Meyer,  a  contribution  of  not  one  cent,  but  of  ten 


WEALTH  ALMOST  ALWAYS  ILLEGITIMATELY  OBTAINED.  217 

to  fifteen  dollars  in  the  lowest  ;ases,  and  often  of  from 
one  to  one  hundred  dollars,  in  the  course  of  the  year,— 
this  law  seems  quite  a  matter  of  course  to  those  who  hap- 
pen to  be  exempt  from  its  jurisdiction.  The  injustice  is 
about  the  same  in  both  cases.  But  the  world  at  large 
appreciates  but  slightly  or  not  at  all,  the  injustice  perpe- 
trated upon  the  proleiaire,  because  it  has  continued  for 
so  many  centuries,  because  mankind  has  become  accus- 
tomed to  it  by  habit,  and  also  because  it  has  not  yet  as- 
sumed that  paradoxical  form  in  which  a  truth  must  reveal 
itself  before  it  can  force  an  entrance  into  unreceptive 
minds. 

We  have  thus  seen  that  great  wealth  in  almost  all 
cases,  is  due  to  the  appropriation  of  the  results  of  others' 
labor,  not  one's  own.  By  their  own  labor  alone,  men  are 
only  able  to  support  life  from  day  to  day,  occasionally  to 
lay  by  sufficient  for  times  of  sickness  and  old  age,  rarelv 
to  attain  to  regular  prosperity.  Some  physicians,  lawyers, 
authors,  painters  and  other  artists,  have  been  able  to  turn 
their  personal  efforts  to  such  advantage  as  to  obtain  an- 
nual incomes  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars,  and  thus 
accumulate  fortunes  of  millions,  without  resorting  to 
speculation  or  illegitimate  profits.  But  such  persons  are 
rare,  numbering  probably  but  two  hundred  or  even  one 
hundred,  living  at  one  time  throughout  the  civilized 
world.  And  even  their  wealth,  examined  closer,  has 
something  of  a  parasitic  character,  with  the  sole  ex- 
ception of  that  amassed  by  the  author.  In  his  case,  if  he 
becomes  a  millionaire,  it  is  owing  to  the  fact  that  he  has 
written  a  book  of  which  one  or  two  millions  copies  have 
been  sold,  showing  that  his  wealth  is  the  direct  remuner- 
ation of  his  intellectual  labor,  paid  him  voluntarily  and 
willingly  by  mankind  in  general.  But  when  an  artist 
sells  a  painting  for  a  hundred  thousand  dollars,  a  surgeon 


218  THE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

performs  an  operation  for  which  he  receives  $10,000,  a 
lawyer  receives  the  same  sum  as  his  retaining  fee,  or  a 
prima  donna  is  paid  $5,000  for  one  evening's  performance, 
these  amounts  do  not  represent  the  price  paid  by  the 
mass  of  people  as  the  legitimate  and  voluntarily  proffered 
reward  for  individual  exertion.  They  are  the  mathemat- 
ical demonstration  of  the  fact  that  a  small  number  of 
millionaires  are  living  in  the  civilized  world,  with  no 
means  of  judging  of  the  real  value  of  any  work,  because 
their  riches  are  not  the  result  of  their  own  labor;  they 
satisfy  every  one  of  their  whims  without  regard  to  its  cost, 
and  fight  among  themselves  for  the  possession  of  certain 
things,  a  painting  for  instance,  or  the  song  of  a  certain 
prima  donna,  the  service  of  this  physician  or  lawyer  and 
of  none  other — willing  to  pay  any  price  to  satisfy  their 
caprice.  Aside  from  the  rare  instances  of  success  in  the  pur- 
suit of  the  liberal  professions  above  described,  the  rule  is 
without  exception  that  a  great  fortune  necessarily  owes 
its  origin  and  growth  to  the  plundering  of  one's  fellow- 
men.  When  the  real  estate  inherited  by  a  certain  man 
increases  in  value,  it  is  not  the  result  of  his  own  exertions 
but  of  the  fact  that  the  number  of  working-men  torn  from 
the  land  and  soil  is  constantly  increasing,  that  all  forms 
of  industry  are  growing  in  extent,  that  the  cities  are  be- 
coming more  and  more  populous,  that  the  labor  of  civil- 
ized society  is  being  confined  more  and  more  to  manu- 
facturing industries,  thus  causing  the  price  of  provisions 
to  risH  in  the  same  proportion  as  the  price  of  manufactured 
articles  is  falling — in  short,  because  other  men  are  work- 
ing, not  because  the  landed  proprietor  exerts  himself. 
Wht>a  the  speculator  amasses  millions  it  is  by  the  abuse 
of  a  riuperior  strength,  either  of  information,  sagacity  or 
of  combination,  with  which  he  deprives  the  laboring  and 
classes  of  their  property,  as  the  brigand  relieves 


THE  PROPERTY  THEFT?  219 

the  wayfarer  of  his  purse,  first  knocking  him  down  with 
his  club.  When  the  manufacturer  becomes  a  Crcesus,  it 
is  by  systematic  plundering  of  his  workmen,  who  receh-e 
for  their  exertions  in  his  behalf,  nothing  more  than  food 
and  shelter,  like  so  many  domestic  animals,  and  both  the 
very  scantiest  possible.  The  entire  results  of  their  labors 
flow  into  the  money  bags  of  their  master. 

It  is  in  this  sense  that  we  must  construe  Proudhon's 
exaggerated  and  therefore  false  assertion  that  property  is 
theft.  We  can  only  make  it  seem  true  by  placing  our- 
selves upon  the  sophistical  standpoint  that  everything 
that  exists  is  created  for  itself,  and  from  the  fact  of  its 
existence,  deduces  the  right  to  belong  to  itself.  Accord- 
ing to  this  idea  we  are  stealing  when  we  pick  a  blade  of 
grass,  when  we  inhale  the  air,  or  catch  a  fish.  The  swal- 
low is  stealing  when  it  eats  a  fly,  the  worm  when  it  eats 
its  way  into  the  heart  of  the  tree;  all  nature  is  peopled 
by  arch-thieves,  everything  that  has  life  is  constantly  steal- 
ing, taking  materials  that  do  not  belong  to  it,  eating,  in- 
haling and  making  them  part  of  its  organism  in  any  and 
every  way.  The  only  instance  of  absolute  freedom  from 
stealing  on  this  mundane  sphere,  according  to  this  view, 
would  be  a  bar  of  platinum,  which  takes  nothing  from 
other  objects,  not  even  oxygen  from  the  air  to  form  rust 
on  its  surface.  No,  property  is  not  theft  when  it  arises 
from  trade,  that  is,  from  the  exchange  of  a  certain  measure 
or  labor  for  a  corresponding  measure  of  goods.  But  an 
enormous  capital,  that  is  the  accumulation  of  vast  amounts 
of  property  in  the  hands  of  one  man,  such  as  no  individual 
would  be  able  to  amass  as  the  results  of  his  own  labor, 
even  at  its  very  highest  valuation,  such  fortunes  are  due 
to  the  robbery  of  the  laboring  classes. 

This  band  of  robbers,  for  whom  the  whole  commun 
ity  toils,  is  powerfully  organized.  It  has,  in  the  first  place. 


220  THE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

the  making  and  administration  of  the  laws  in  its  own 
hands,  as  it  has  had  for  centuries.  At  every  new  law 
promulgated,  we  might  exclaim  with  Moliere:  "Vous  e"tes 
orfevre,  Monsieur  Josse!"  "You  are  a  capitalist,  Mr.  Law- 
maker, or  at  least,  you  hope  to  become  such,  and  declare 
everything  to  be  a  crime  that  might  hinder  you  in  the 
pursuit,  enjoyment  and  possession  of  your  capital."  Every- 
thing that  a  man  can  get  hold  of  in  any  way  except  by 
open,  hand  to  hand  violence  is  and  remains  his  own.  And 
even  when  the  genealogy  of  a  property  can  be  traced  to 
literal  robbery  or  theft  (such  as  conquest,  seizure  of 
church  property  or  political  confiscation  of  others'  goods) 
this  crime  becomes  an  unimpeachable  title  to  possession, 
if  the  owner  has  been  able  to  hold  the  property  for  a  cer- 
tain number  of  years.  The  state  law  that  calls  out  the 
police,  is  not  sufficient  for  the  millionaire.  He  makes 
superstition  his  ally  and  gets  from  Religion  an  extra 
padlock  for  his  money  chest,  by  smuggling  into  the 
catechism  a  sentence  which  asserts  that  property  is  sacred, 
and  envy  and  covetousness  for  our  neighbor's  property,  a 
sin  to  be  punished  with  the  fires  of  hell.  He  distorts  even 
the  laws  of  morality  and  furthers  his  selfish  aims  by  in- 
culcating upon  the  vast  majority  of  the  people,  toiling 
for  him,  that  labor  is  virtue,  and* that  man  was  only  created 
to  labor  as  much  as  possible.  How  comes  it  that  the  best 
and  truest  intellects  have  believed  in  the  reality  of  this 
fiction  for  thousands  of  years?  Labor  a  virtue?  Accord- 
ing to  what  law  of  nature?  No  living  being  in  the  whole 
organic  world  works  for  the  pleasure  of  working,  but 
only  for  the  purpose  of  self  and  race  preservation,  and 
only  so  much  as  is  necessary  for  this  twofold  purpose. 
People  say  that  organs  only  remain  sound  and  develope 
when  exercised,  and  that  they  wither  when  they  lie  idle.  The 
advocates  of  this  system  of  capitalists'  morality  who  have 


• 


LABOR  A  VIRTUE  IN  THE  POOR  MAW.  221 

found  this  argument  in  physiology,  do  not  mention  the 
fact  that  organs  are  much  more  rapidly  destroyed  by  over 
work  than  by  no  Vork.  Rest,  comfortable  leisure,  is  in- 
finitely more  natural,  pleasant  and  desirable  for  man  as 
well  as  for  all  other  animals,  than  work  and  exertion.  The 
latter  is  only  a  painful  necessity,  required  for  the  preserv- 
ation of  life.  The  inventor  of  the  story  of  the  Garden  of 
Eden  in  the  Bible,  showed  that  he  appreciated  this  fact 
with  honest  naivete,  by  placing  his  first  human  beings  in 
a  paradise  where  they  could  live  without  any  necessity 
for  exertion,  and  labor,  the  sweat  of  man's  brow,  was  the 
terrible  punishment  for  their  disobedience.  Natural,  zoo- 
logical morality  proclaims  that  rest  is  the  highest  reward 
of  labor,  and  that  only  so  much  work  is  desirable  and  com- 
mendable as  is  indispensable  to  prolong  life.  But  the 
robber  band  do  not  accept  this  idea  of  the  case.  Their 
interests  demand  that  the  masses  should  work  more  than 
is  necessary  for  them  to  support  life  and  should  produce 
more  than  is  required  for  their  own  consumption  so  that 
their  masters  can  take  possession  of  this  overproduction 
for  their  own  use.  Consequently  they  have  suppressed 
the  morality  of  nature  and  invented  another,  which  they 
set  their  philosophers  to  tabulating,  their  parsons  to  prais- 
ing and  their  poets  to  singing.  According  to  their  system, 
idleness  is  the  beginning  of  all  crimes  and  labor  a  virtue, 
the  most  excellent  of  all  virtues. 

The  robber  band  is  however,  constantly  contradicting 
.tself  with  the  most  short-sighted  policy.  The  robbers  care- 
fully avoid  even  the  pretense  of  submitting  to  their  own  code 
of  morality,  and  thus  betray  the  small  amount  of  re- 
spect they  have  for  it  in  reality.  Idleness  is  only  a  crime 
in  the  poor  man.  In  the  rich  man  it  is  an  attribute  of  a 
higher  type  of  humanity,  the  token  of  his  exalted  rank. 
And  labor,  which  his  double-faced  morality  asserts  to  be  a 


THE  ECONOMIC  Llfc. 

virtue  for  the  poor  man,  is  from  his  point  of  view,  a  dis- 
grace and  a  sign  of  social  inferiority.  ^  The  millionaire 
pats  the  laboring  man  on  the  shoulder,  but  excludes  him 
from  his  social  intercourse.  Society  which  has  accepted 
and  adopted  the  morality  and  views  of  the  band  of  capi- 
talists, glorifies  labor  in  its  most  choice  terms,  but  at  the 
same  time,  assigns  the  laborer  to  the  lowest  rank.  Society 
kisses  the  gloved  hand  and  spits  on  the  horny  hand  of  the 
son  of  toil.  It  looks  upon  the  millionaire  as  a  demi-god, 
upon  the  day  laborer  as  an  outcast.  Why  ?  For  two  rea- 
sons. Firstly,  because  the  prejudices  and  ideas  imbibed 
in  the  Middle  Ages  have  been  perpetuated  to  the  present 
time,  and  secondly  because  manual  labor  in  our  civiliza- 
tion is  synonymous  with  lack  of  education. 

During  the  Middle  Ages  idleness  was  the  prerogative 
of  the  nobility,  that  is,  of  the  higher  race  of  conquerors, 
labor,  the  compulsory  performance  of  tasks  by  the  people, 
that  is,  by  the  lower  race  of  conquered  and  subjugated 
beings.  Consequently  the  man  that  labored  betrayed 
the  fact  that  he  was  a  son  of  the  race  which  had  given 
proof  on  the  field  of  battle  that  it  had  less  virile  man- 
hood and  strength,  while  the  lord,  the  man  of  leisure,  re- 
ceiving his  means  of  livelihood  from  his  estate  or  by  con- 
quest, looked  down  upon  the  working-man  with  the  con- 
tempt of  a  white  man  for  a  Bushman  or  Papuan,  which  is 
founded  on  the  appreciation  of  his  anthropological  super- 
iority. Today  leisure  and  labor  have  ceased  to  be  tokens 
of  race.  The  millionaires  are  no  longer  the  descendants 
of  the  conquering  tribe,  the  proletaires  are  no  longer  the 
sons  of  the  subjugated  people.  But  in  this  as  in  so  many 
other  cases,  the  historical  prejudice  has  survived  the  con- 
ditions under  which  it  originated.  The  rich  man  still 
considers  his  employe,  who  works  for  him  and  supplies 
him  with  his  luxury,  merely  as  a  kind  of  domestic  auia>*.l, 


CULTDAj£  THE  PREROGATIVE  OP  THE  BICB.  223 

as  the  nobleman  centuries  ago,  looked  upon  his  vassal, 
neither  of  them  recognizing  in  him  a  complete  human  be- 
ing, their  equal  in  any  way. 

Manual  labor  is  also  synonymous  with  a  lack  of  edu- 
cation in  our  civilization.  In  fact  the  whole  organization 
of  society  renders  cultivation  inaccessible  to  those  with- 
out means.  The  son  of  a  poor  man  can  hardly  go  to  the 
public  school,  much  less  to  high  school  and  college, 
being  obliged  to  earn  money  as  soon  as  any  one  can  be 
found  to  employ  his  services.  We  can  admire  in  this 
case  another  example  of  the  conformity  to  the  end  in  view 
of  the  present  conditions  of  State  and  society.  The  ex- 
pensive institutions  of  learning  are  supported  by  the 
State,  that  is,  by  the  tax-payers,  working-men  as  well  as 
nillionaires,  but  they  only  benefit  those  who  at  least 
possess  sufficient  income  to  live  till  their  eighteenth  or 
twenty  third  year  without  supporting  themselves.  The 
jactory  employe  who  can  not  let  his  own  son  enjoy  the 
benefits  of  a  higher  education,  because  he  is  too  poor  to 
afford  it,  is  yet  constrained  to  have  the  son  of  the  rich 
man  study  at  his  expense,  when  he  pays  the  taxes  which 
are  applied  to  the  maintenance  of  the  intermediate  and 
high  schools.  The  English  and  Americans  are  still  con- 
sistent up  to  a  certain  point.  Their  higher  educational 
institutions,  even  if  they  are  not  accessible  to  rich  and 
poor  alike,  are  yet  no  burden  upon  the  community,  because 
they  are  either  maintained  by  private  enterprise  or  by 
endowments.  But  on  the  continent  of  Europe,  in  con- 
formity to  the  prevailing  policy  of  plundering  the  people 
for  the  purpose  of  benefiting  a  small  minority,  the  insti- 
tutions for  higher  education  are  supported  from  the  Budget, 
that  is,  from  the  amount  of  taxes  paid  to  the  State  by  the 
nation,  although  their  benefits  are  only  enjoyed  by  a 
!aw,  by  no  means  even  one  per  cent  of  the 


224  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

total  population.  And  who  are  the  chosen  few  for  whom 
the  State  supports  colleges  and  technical  schools,  re- 
quiring appropriations  amounting  to  millions;*  Are  they 
the  most  capable  young  men  of  their  generation?  Does  the 
State  take  pains  to  admit  to  their  lecture  rooms  only 
those  persons  in  whose  minds  the  instruction  imparted  by 
the  professors  will  surely  bring  forth  fruit?  Does  it  refuse 
to  allow  blockheads  to  usurp  the  place  and  opportunities  for 
learning  intended  for  receptive  and  creative  intelligent 
faculties?  No.  The  State  offers  these  higher  branches  of 
learning  not  to  all  but  to  a  few,  and  these  few  are  not 
chosen  for  their  special  intellectual  endowments  and 
capacity  for  assimilating  this  higher  culture,  but  for  their 
financial  conditions.  The  most  dense-headed  simpleton 
can  gD  through  college  and  absorb  the  mental  food  spread 
before  him  by  the  professors,  without  its  ever  proving  of 
the  slightest  benefit  to  the  community,  if  he  has  money 
enough  to  support  himself  and  pay  his  tuition  fees.  The 
most  talented  young  man  on  the  contrary,  is  excluded 
from  the  halls  of  learning  because  he  lacks  these  neces- 
sary means — a  matter  of  real  detriment  to  the  community 
which  may  lose  by  it  some  Goethe,  Kant  or  Bacon. 

Thus  the  pernicious  conditions  of  society  and  politi- 
cal economy  in  our  civilization,  form  a  tirculus  vitiosus 
from  which  there  is  no  escape;  the  laboring  man  k  ^oked 
down  upon  because  he  has  no  cultivation;  he  can  not 
educate  himself  because  education  and  cultivation  cost 
money,  which  he  has  not  got.  The  rich  retain  for  them- 
selves to  the  exclusion  of  the  poor,  not  only  all  the 
material  enjoyments  of  life,  but  the  intellectual  as  well. 
The  noblest  blessings  that  civilization  has  to  offer  us, 
culture,  poetry  and  art,  are,  as  a  fact,  only  free  to  the  rich, 
and  cultivation  in  its  most  comprehensive  sense,  is  the  most 
important  and  most  exclusive  of  all  their  privileges.  When 


LABOR  A  DISGRACE  FOE  THE  RICH.  225 

some  young  man  of  the  lower  classes  succeeds  in  master- 
ing the  higher  branches  of  education  by  means  of  almost 
superhuman  exertions,  by  deprivations  and  humiliations, 
begging  if  need  be,  and  receives  a  diploma  in  the  univer- 
sity, he  never  returns  to  the  position  of  his  father.  Free 
from  the  prejudices  and  ideas  of  society,  which  consider  a 
man  who  obtains  his  livelihood  by  manual  labor  as  a  being 
of  the  lowest  social  status,  he  could  take  up  the  trade  of  his 
father  and  show  the  world  one  example  of  a  day-laborer 
standing  upon  the  same  scale  of  culture  as  the  ink-flourish- 
ing public  functionary  and  the  recluse  professor.  But  he 
does  not  do  this,  he  strengthens  these  prejudices  by  en- 
rolling himself  as  a  member  of  the  privileged  class,  by 
affecting  to  look  upon  manual  labor  as  degrading,  and  by 
getting  his  support,  like  the  other  members  of  the  upper 
classes,  from  the  laboring  people.  There  are  many  kinds 
of  manual  labor  by  which  a  skilled  mechanic  or  artisan, 
can  earn  without  extra  effort,  a  good  living  while  preserv- 
ing his  independence;  on  the  other  hand,  nine  tenths  of 
the  situations  in  the  business  houses,  railroads,  and  in  tht> 
civil  service,  only  pay  very  limited  salaries.  And  yet  the 
college  graduate  prefers  one  of  the  latter  positions  by  far, 
even  with  its  accompanying  office  slavery,  to  the  better 
income  with  liberty.  As  a  government  employe  he  be- 
longs to  the  privileged  class  in  society,  to  the  exclusive 
brotherhood  of  cultured  Philistinism,  but  as  a  working- 
man,  he  would  stand  outside  of  the  castes  with  whom 
society  affiliates,  and  be  looked  upon  as  a  barbarian  who 
did  not  breath  the  same  mental  atmosphere  as  the  culti- 
vated set.  These  circumstances  would  all  be  changed  if 
the  college  graduate  would  take  his  place  at  the  lathe  and 
the  man  with  the  leather  apron  be  reading  Horace  at  his. 
nooning,  and  the  blacksmith  or  shoemaker,  with  their 
diplomas  in  their  pockets,  after  the  day's  work  is  finished 


226  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

with  the  anvil  and  last,  sit  around  an  esthetic  five  o'clock 
tea  table  and  discourse  as  learnedly  as  some  young  lawyer 
or  clerk  in  chancery.  For  honest  labor  is  honorable  and 
dignified,  whether  it  is  applied  to  making  overcoats  or 
planning  the  construction  of  railroads,  and  their  mental 
culture  being  equal,  the  civil  engineer  has  no  more  claims 
to  respect  and  consideration  than  the  tailor.  But  the 
college  graduate  does  nothing  eo  bring  about  such  a  con- 
dition of  affairs.  He  prefers  to  starve  in  his  shabby-genteel 
overcoat  rather  than  to  live  in  comparative  plenty,  wearing 
a  leather  apron.  This  is  the  cause  of  one  of  the  most 
threatening  phases  of  the  social  problem:  the  over-supply 
of  men  in  the  liberal  professions. 

The  college  graduate  thinks  himself  of  too  much  ac- 
count to  descend  into  and  be  lost  in  the  lowest  class  of 
society,  by  voluntarily  assuming  the  trade  of  a  manual- 
laborer,  and  according  to  the  ideas  prevalent  in  society  he 
is  correct.  He  demands  of  the  world  that  he  be  supported 
as  a  master,  not  support  himself,  like  a  slave.  But  the 
world  has  only  a  limited  demand  for  the  kind  of  work 
which  the  college-bred  man  considers  suitable  for  him. 
Hence,  in  the  older  civilized  countries,  at  least 
one  half  of  the  graduates  are  condemned  to  spend  their 
lives  in  hoping  and  envying,  obtaining  none  of  life's  bles- 
sings, fighting  hard  for  the  small  amount  of  daily  bread 
they  require,  and  often  going  hungry,  standing  beside  the 
overloaded,  groaning  table  of  the  upper  ten  thousand, 
while  suffering  the  pangs  of  semi-starvation.  Certain 
friends  of  humanity,  of  that  stamp  who  consider  wars  and 
pestilences  as  blessings  for  the  human  race,  because  they 
leave  more  room  and  better  conditions  of  existence  for 
•those  remaining  alive,  these  people  express  their  con- 
victions that  cultivation  is  an  injury  to  mankind,  that  the 
increase  in  the  number  of  intermediate  and  hiirb  schools, 


MANUAL  LABOR  BENEATH  THE  COLLEGE  GRADUATE.   22? 

is  an  attempt  to  destroy  the  happiness  of  the  masses,  be- 
cause m  them  more  discontented  professional  failures 
iuture  barricade  fighters  and  dynamiters  are  being  raised 
and  let  loose  upon  thecommunity.  As  thingsarenow  these 
reasoners  are  in  the  right.  As  long  as  the  college-bred 
young  man  considers  himself  disgraced  by  manual  labor 
because  the  laborer  is  despised,  as  long  as  he  sees  in  his' 
diploma  an  instrument  by  which  to  compel  society  to  rally 
to  his  support  and  as  long  as  he  considers  himself  entitled 
by  his  education  to  the  parasitic  life  of  the  wealthy  clas- 
ses— as^long  as  these  conditions  endure,  his  education  will 
bring  him  far  more  unhappiness,  in  five  cases  out  of  ten, 
than  he  would  ever  experience  if  he  were  without  it  and 
leading  the  life  of  a  handicraft'^  man  or  even  of  a  day- 
laborer. 

This  can  only  be  remedied  by  giving  back  to  education 
its  natural  role.  It  must  be  its  own  object.  We  must 
learn  to  consider  that  a  cultivated  mind  is  in  itself,  a 
sufficient  reward  for  the  efforts  made  to  get  the  cultiva- 
tion, that  we  have  no  right  to  expect  any  other  reward 
for  these  efforts,  and  that  its  possession  does  not  relieve 
us  in  any  way  from  the  duty  of  productive  labor.  A  cul- 
tivated mind  has  a  fuller  and  richer  consciousness  of  itr 
Eg°>  it  grasps  better  the  phenomena  of  the  world  and  of 
life,  it  can  appreciate  and  enjoy  the  beauties  of  art  and  of 
literature,  and  its  existence  gives  its  possessor  a  far  more 
liberal  and  intensive  life  in  every  respect  than  that  led  by 
the  ignorant.  We  are  ungrateful  if,  in  addition  to  these 
priceless  blessings  for  the  inner  life,  we  demand  of 
education  that  it  should  also  provide  us  with  our  daily 
bread:  this  should  be  the  task  of  our  hands.  But  if  on 
Dne  hand,  the  man  of  culture  ought  not  to  despise  the  im- 
mediate production  of  articles  for  the  market,  society  on 
the  other  hand,  should  make  education  icoessible  to  all 


228  THE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

those  capable  of  receiving  and  profiting  by  it.  Compuls- 
ory school  attendance  is  only  a  weak  beginning.  How 
can  poor  men  afford  to  send  their  children  to  school  until 
they  are  ten  or  twelve  years  old,  when  they  are  unable  to 
feed  and  clothe  them  during  that  time,  and  the  little  ones 
must  labor  for  their  own  support.  And  is  it  justifiable,  is  it 
consistent,  for  the  State  to  say:  "You  must  learn  to  read 
and  write;  thus  far  shalt  thou  go  and  no  farther?"  Why 
does  compulsory  school  attendance  cease  at  the  elementary 
grades?  Why  does  it  not  extend  to  the  higher  branches? 
Ignorance  is  either  an  infirmity  in  the  individual  and 
consequently  in  the  community,  or  else  it  is  not.  If  it  is 
no  infirmity,  why  are  the  children  compelled  to  attend 
the  primary  and  elementary  schools?  If  it  is,  why  is  it 
not  cured  completely  by  a  complete  and  rounded  edu- 
cation? Is  not  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  nature  as  valu- 
able as  the  multiplication  table?  The  coming  voters,  ih 
whose  hands  lie  the  destinies  of  their  native  land,  do  not 
they  need  any  acquaintance  with  history,  politics  and 
national  economy?  Can  they  get  the  full  benefit  of 
the  art  of  reading  which  they  have  mastered,  if  they  are 
not  instructed  in  nor  even  introduced  to  the  master- 
pieces of  prose  and  poetry  in  their  national  literature?  The 
intermediate  schools  provide  for  this,  at  least.  Why  then 
is  not  attendance  upon  the  intermediate  schools  made 
compulsory?  The  obstacle  is  a  material  one.  The  poor 
man  who  has  already  experienced  great  difficulty  in  sup- 
porting his  child  until  he  graduates  from  the  primary 
school,  would  find  it  utterly  impossible  to  carry  the  burden 
of  his  maintenance  until  he  had  reached  an  advanced  age, 
until  his  eighteenth  or  twentieth  year.  He  is  compelled 
by  sheer  necessity  to  convert  the  laboring  power  of  his 
child  into  money,  at  the  earliest  possible  moment.  In 
order  to  have  the  benefits  of  the  intermediate  schools  shared 


COMPULSORY  SCHOOL  ATTENDANCE  AND  SUPPORT.     229 

by  as  many  pupils  as  attend  the  primary  schools, 
the  labor  of  the  scholars  should  be  organized  and 
utilized,  as  is  the  case  in  some  educational  institutions 
in  the  United  States,  where  the  pupils  carry  on  a  farm  or 
work  at  some  manual  trade,  in  connection  with  their 
studies,  with  sufficient  success  and  pecuniary  returns,  aided 
by  outside  benevolent  contributions  to  a  certain  extent, 
to  support  themselves  during  their  school  life.  A  far  bet- 
ter and  more  consistent  plan  would  be  for  the  community 
to  supply  not  only  instruction,  but  the  entire  material 
support  of  the  scholars  during  their  years  of  study.  "That 
would  be  pure  Communism!"  exclaims  some  obstinate 
adherent  of  that  organized  egotism  which  we  call  the 
existing  science  of  political  economy. 

I  might  flatter  him  by  disclaiming  the  horrid  word 
md  saying:  No,  that  would  not  be  Communism,  but  the 
solidarity  of  the  community.  But  I  disdain  to  play  hide- 
and-seek  with  thought,  and  thus  I  say  frankly:  yes,  it 
would  be  a  bit  of  Communism.  But  are  we  not  living  in 
A  complete  state  of  Communism?  Is  it  not  Communism 
for  the  State  to  provide  compulsory  education  for  the 
whole  generation  of  children  from  their  sixth  to  their 
twelfth  year?  Is  not  the  mental  food  thus  provided  for 
them,  one  kind  of  food?  Does  it  not  cost  money?  Is  it 
not  the  community  which  supplies  this  money?  And  the 
standing  army?  Is  not  this  also  founded  upon  pure  Com- 
munism? D;>es  not  the  community  support  in  this  way  a 
whole  generation  of  ymng  men,  between  their  twentieth 
and  twenty-third  year,  and  n<»'  with  mental  food  alone, 
but  with  actual  food  and  clothing,  house  and  home?  Why 
should  it  be  more  difficult  or  more  unreasonable  for  the 
State  to  support  a  million  children  during  their  entire 
school  life,  as  far  as  the  university,  than  to  support  half 
million  young  men  during  their  years  of  military  semcer 


230  THE  ECONOMIC  UK. 

The  expense?  It  would  be  no  greater  than  the  expense  of 
keeping  up  the  army.  And  the  maintenance  and  develop- 
ment of  an  army  is  of  no  greater  importance  to  the  safety 
and  prosperity  of  the  nation  than  the  more  complete  edu- 
cation of  the  generation  growing  up  around  us.  And  be- 
sides: why  can  not  the  two  aims  be  combined?  Why  can 
not  the  State  feed  and  clothe  the  entire  male  generation 
until  the  seventeenth  or  eighteenth  year,  as  it  now  feeds 
and  clothes  the  regular  army,  and  during  this  time,  in 
connection  with  the  primary  and  intermediate  schooling 
given  to  them,  let  them  be  receiving  their  military  in- 
struction? The  national  labor  would  gain  vastly  by  the 
substitution  of  the  less  costly  arms  of  the  scholar  soldiers 
for  those  of  the  strong  and  trained  young  men  of  twenty 
to  twenty  three,  of  whose  valuable  labor  the  community 
is  now  deprived.  The  actual  gain  in  this  way  to  the 
nation  would  represent  an  amount  of  money  sufficient  to 
cover  the  entire  extra  expense  of  the  scholar  army  over  the 
present  army,  whose  capability  for  labor  is  condemned  to 
three  years  of  unproductiveness,  at  the  very  blossoming 
time  of  its  development. 

Such  a  system  to  be  complete,  must  be  founded  upon 
a  certain  other  condition.  Not  every  mind  is  capable  of 
receiving  and  assimilating  the  higher  and  highest  branches 
of  learning.  If  the  State  is  to  take  charge  of  the  whole 
population  of  scholars  throughout  the  country  and  thus 
make  education  possible  to  all,  even  to  the  son  of  the 
poorest  man,  then  it  must  take  care  that  its  benefits  are 
not  wasted  upon  those  who  are  unworthy  or  incapable  of 
profiting  by  them.  At  the  close  of  each  school  year  a 
strict  and  exhaustive  examination  of  the  scholars  should 
take  place,  aixd  those  only  be  allowed  to  enter  the  grade 
above,  who  were  able  to  sustain  the  examination.  la  this 
way  the  talentless  scholar  would  drop  out  of  school  after 

N 


are  as 


having  acquired  the  elementary  branches,  which 
much  of  a  mental  load  as  he  is  capable  of  bearing  the 
mediocre  intelligence  would  leave  school  after  havin.r 
acquired  a  part  or  the  whole  of  the  intermediate  branch  J, 
while  only  the  pupils  possessing  real  talent  would  work 
their  way  into  the  highest  educational  institutes,  the  scien- 
tific, technical  and  art  academies.  By  this  system  liberal 
education  would  become  the  property  of  the  entire  people, 
instead  of  being  as  it  is  now,  a  privilege  only  enjoyed  by 
the  wealthy  classes.  Manual  labor  would  be  no  longer 
synonymous  with  lack  of  cultivation,  and  the  educated 
young  man  would  incur  no  disgrace  if  he  earned  his  live- 
lihood by  the  direct  production  of  articles  for  the  market. 
The  over-crowding  of  the  liberal  professions  by  presum- 
ing and  unauthorized  mediocrities  would  be  prevented. 
Genuine  talent  that  had  been  obliged  to  display  and 
prove  its  authenticity  and  its  claim  to  the  title  in  a  dozen 
competitive  examinations  of  constantly  increasing  severity, 
would  find  in  its  diploma,  the  absolute  guarantee  of  an 
honorable  livelihood;  the  problematic  existences  would 
disappear  and  shabby  gentility  cease  to  exist.  This 
system  would  thus  be  found  a  complete  cure  for  one  of 
the  most  dangerous  wounds  in  the  body  of  society. 

Our  picture  of  the  political  economy  of  our  civilization 
in  the  preceding  pages,  included  the  privileged  class,  the 
men  of  wealth  and  leisure,  who  live  on  the  labor  of  others, 
the  group  of  college-bred  young  men  who  consider  that 
their  possession  of  a  diploma  entitles  them  to  live  the  life  of 
a  parasite  on  the  working  classes,  the  same  as  the  million- 
aire's wealth  entitles  him,  and  the  proletaires,  the  lowest 
class  in  society,  torn  from  the  soil  intended  by  nature  to 
support  man,  without  property  of  any  kind,  toiling  for  a 
mere  subsistence.  What  a  tragic  figure  in  the  midst  of  our 
civilisation!  What  a  pregnant  criticism  of  the  world's 


232  THE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

progress,  this  factory  employe !  The  lines  are  often  quoted  in 
which  La  Bruyere  describes  the  peasant  vassal  of  his  day: 
"a  kind  of  gloomy,  timid  animal,  emaciated,  living  in  dens: 
eating  grass  on  all  fours,  covered  with  rags,  fleeing 
affrighted  at  the  approach  of  other  men,  and  yet  bearing 
the  semblance  of  a  human  being,  and  yet  being  a  man." 
This  description  will  also  apply  to  the  day-laborer  of 
Europe.  Miserably  fed,  principally  on  potatoes  and  the 
refuse  of  the  meat  shops  in  the  shape  of  sausages,  poisoned 
with  bad  liquors,  which  give  him  the  deceptive  sensation 
of  a  satisfied  appetite  and  renewed  strength,  badly  dressed, 
in  blouse  and  overalls  which  proclaim  him  from  afar  as  the 
poor  man,  the  degraded  social  being,  condemned  to 
physical  uncleanliness  by  his  lack  of  money,  he  hides  his 
wretchedness  in  the  darkest,  filthiest  corners  of  the  great 
cities.  He  not  only  has  no  share  in  the  finer  provisions 
that  the  earth  brings  forth,  but  he  is  also  partially  or  to- 
tally deprived  of  light  and  air  which  one  would  suppose 
were  at  the  disposal  of  every  living  being  in  unlimited 
quantities.  His  insufficient  nourishment  and  the  excessive 
demands  upon  his  laboring  forces,  exhaust  his  vital  ener 
gies  to  such  an  extent  that  his  children  are  predisposed 
to  rachitis  and  he  himself,  succumbs  to  an  early  death, 
frequently  preceded  by  some  chronic  disease.  His  un- 
healthy dwelling  place  fastens  upon  him  and  his  offspring 
the  curses  of  scrofula  and  consumption.  He  is  a  kind  of 
forlorn  post  which  every  disease  tries  in  turn  to  master. 
He  is  worse  off  than  the  slave  of  ancient  times,  oppressed 
the  same,  dependent  in  the  same  way  upon  master  and 
overseer,  he  yet  gets  nothing  in  return  for  the  loss  of  his 
freedom,  not  even  the  food  and  shelter  given  to  a  dom- 
estic animal.  Another  point  in  which  his  wretchedness  is 
more  acute  than  that  of  the  ancient  bond-slave,  is  the  fact 
that  he  is  conscious  of  it  and  also  of  his  dignity  and 


THE  SLAVERY  OF  THE  FACTORY  EMPLOYE.  23'6 

natural  rights  as  a  man.  He  is  even  worse  off  than 
the  savage  wandering  through  the  primeval  forests  of 
America  or  camping  on  the  grassy  plains  of  Australia, 
for,  like  him,  dependent  solely  upon  himself,  like  him, 
living  from  hand  to  mouth,  day  by  day,  and  suffering 
the  pangs  of  hunger  if  he  lays  idle  for  a  few  hours, 
he  is,  unlike  him,  deprived  of  that  keen  delight  which 
is  produced  by  the  complete  expansion  of  all  the  phy- 
sical and  mental  forces  in  the  struggle  to  overcome 
natural  obstacles,  animals  and  men.  He  is  moreover 
obliged  to  pay  over  a  considerable  share  of  his  earnings, 
which  are  so  far  from  being  sufficient  for  his  support,  to 
the  community,  in  exchange  for  chains  and  blows.  Civil- 
ization, which  promised  him  liberty  and  prosperity,  has 
not  only  refused  to  keep  its  promise,  but  excludes  him 
directly  from  its  highest  blessings.  Modern  sanitary  science 
which  has  made  the  home  of  the  rich  so  comfortable  and 
healthy,  has  not  paid  any  attention  to  his  lurking  place. 
He  is  far  more  uncomfortable  in  the  fourth  class  coach 
when  travelling  by  rail  than  when  he  used  to  trudge  along 
on  foot  or  ride  behind  some  broken-down  horse  in  his  rude 
cart.  He  never  hears  or  knows  anything  of  the  triumphs 
of  scientific  investigation.  The  production  of  the  creative 
arts,  the  poetical  master- works  of  his  native  tongue  are 
sealed  books  to  him,  because  he  has  never  been  trained  to 
comprehend  them.  Even  the  labor-saving  mechanical 
appliances  which  ought  to  prove  such  a  blessing  to  him, 
have  rather  increased  than  diminished  his  slavery.  It  is 
certainly  a  great  forward  stride  in  the  progress  and  happ- 
iness of  mankind  that  the  forces  of  nature  can  now  be 
harnessed  and  employed  in  the  performance  of  all  brute 
labor.  What  distinguishes  man  above  all  other  living 
beings  is  not  his  muscular  system,  but  his  brain.  As  a 
source  of  strength  he  is  inferior  to  the  mule  and  the  ox, 


234  THE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

and  if  mechanical  labor  is  all  that  is  required  of  him,  he 
is  degraded  to  be  a  mere  beast  of  burden.  But  machinery 
has  not  proved  as  yet  the  savior,  the  liberator  and  the 
ally  of  the  workman  as  was  first  hoped,  but  on  the  contrary, 
has  made  him  its  slave.  Now  as  much  as  ever  before,  does 
his  value  in  the  industrial  arts  depend  directly  upon  his 
muscular  strength,  and  he  has  thus  become  the  weak,  im- 
perfect and  abject  competitor  of  machinery.  Deprived  of 
his  share  of  the  soil,  he  is  not  able  to  supply  his  wants  by 
raising  the  products  of  nature;  submission  to  the  inevita- 
ble is  his  only  recourse.  He  only  becomes  aware  of  his 
fellowship  with  mankind  by  the  duties  laid  upon  him,  for 
which  he  receives  no  privileges  in  return.  When  he  is 
not  able  to  exchange  his  labor  for  money,  or  when  disease 
or  old  age  put  an  end  to  his  work  temporarily  or  per- 
manently, the  community  looks  after  him,  indeed.  It 
gives  him  alms  if  he  takes  to  begging,  it  lays  him  on  the 
cot  in  the  hospital  if  he  has  a  fever,  it  puts  him — some- 
times— in  a  poor-house,  if  he  is  too  old  and  feeble  for  any- 
thing else;  but  how  impatiently,  how  grudgingly,  does  it 
fulfill  these  duties!  .  It  offers  its  unwelcome  guest  more 
humiliations  than  mouthfuls.  While  it  is  satisfying  his 
hunger  and  covering  his  nakedness,  it  is  declaring  that  it 
is  a  disgrace  to  accept  these  benefits  from  its  hands,  and 
affects  the  most  profound  contempt  for  the  unfortunates 
who  are  suing  for  its  bounty.  The  laboring  classes 
find  it  impossible  to  lay  by  anything  for  days  of  no 
work  or  of  sickness  and  old  age.  How  can  they  have 
a  surplus  when  even  the  necessaries  of  life  are  lacking? 
They  can  not  think  of  demanding  wages  above  what  they 
need  to  satisfy  their  most  pressing  wants,  because  the  num- 
ber of  these  disinherited  beings  is  too  large  and  is  con- 
stantly increasing,  there  are  sure  to  be  plenty  who  would 
accept  their  situations  at  any  wages  that  would  keep  the11! 


THE  OPERATIVE  EXCLUDED  FROM  OUR  CIVILIZATION.   235 

from  dying  at  once  of  starvation. 

These  circumstances  are  utterly  beyond  the  control  of 
the  laboring  man.  He  may  toil  with  the  utmost  diligence, 
with  the  greatest  exertion  of  his  vital  energies,  he  can 
never  earn  more  than  is  sufficient  to  supply  his  most  im- 
mediate wants — aside  from  the  fact  that  the  lowest  wages 
now  paid  represent  the  expenditure  of  all  the  workman's 
energies.     On  the  contrary:  the  more  he  works,  the  more 
intolerable  does  his  position  become.  This  sounds  paradoxi- 
cal, but  it  is  nevertheless  true.     The  more  that  the  oper- 
ative produces,  the  lower  goes  the  selling  price  of  his 
productions,  while  his  wages  remain  the  same  if  they  do 
not  become  less.     Thus   he   spoils  his  own   market  by 
straining  every  nerve,  and  depreciates  the  value  of  his 
own   labor.      This  phenomenon  would  not  occur   if  the 
production  of  the  great  manufacturing  industries  was  reg- 
ulated by  the   demand.     Then  over-production   would 
never  occur,  the  price  of  the  articles  would  never  be  de- 
pressed by  an  over-supply,  and  the  producing  laboring 
man  would  be  paid  higher  wages  for  an  increased  amount 
of  work.     But  Capital  perverts  this  natural  operation  of 
the  forces  of  political  economy.     A  man  builds  a  factory 
and  commences  the  manufacture  of  goods,  not  because  he 
has  become  convinced  that  a  demand  hitherto  unsatisfied 
exists  for  the  goods  he  is  to  produce,  but  because  he  has 
capital,  for  which  he  is  seeking  a  profitable  investment, 
and  also  because  he  has  some  neighbor  who  has  accumu- 
lated wealth  with  his  factory.     Thus  individual  whims  or 
want  of  judgment,  instead  of  the  laws  of  political  economy, 
decide  the  investment  of  capital.  The  market  is  thus  flooded 
with  an  over-supply  of  certain  manufactured  goods  be- 
cause  some  man  has  been  following  a  false  trail  in  his 
mad   chase  after  the   Almighty   Dollar.      The   mistake 
brings  its  own  punishment,  it  is  true.    The  manufacturer 


23b  THE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

offers  his  goods  at  lower  and  lower  prices,  until  they  no 
longer  pay  the  expenses  of  production,  and  then  he  is  finan- 
cially wrecked.  All  the  other  manufacturers  of  that 
same  article  go  down  with  him,  and  that  branch  of  pro- 
duction is  involved  in  a  national  or  world-wide  financial 
crisis.  But  the  real  victim  is  the  factory  employe.  As 
the  price  of  the  manufactured  article  sinks  lower  and 
lower,  his  wages  are  decreased  in  proportion  until  the 
manufacturer  has  exhausted  his  capital.  And  when  the 
unequal  battle  between  supply  and  demand  ends  in  the 
victory  of  the  former  and  production  ceases,  then  he  is 
left  entirely  without  bread,  for  a  longer  or  shorter  time  as 
the  case  may  be.  These  are  the  roles  played  by  the  manu- 
facturer and  the  operative  in  the  great  manufacturing  in- 
dustries. The  latter  makes  it  possible  for  the  former  to 
accumulate  a  great  capital.  This  capital  seeks  profits 
and  believes  they  can  be  found  in  the  opening  of  additional 
factories.  This  leads  to  over-production  and  increased 
competition,  with  their  train  of  depression  of  prices  and 
reduction  of  wages,  closing  with  the  crisis  which  deprives 
the  operative  of  the  opportunity  of  earning  anything. 
Thus  the  industrial  slave  makes  his  master  rich,  while  his 
own  daily  bread  is  reduced  in  quantity  day  by  day  and 
finally  taken  away  from  him  entirely.  Can  there  be  a 
more  beautiful  illustration  of  the  way  in  which  the  exist- 
ing condrions  of  the  economic  world  conform  to  truth, 
justice  and  propriety! 


III. 

The  first  question  which  arises  in  our  minds  as  we 
look  upon  this  picture  of  the  financial  and  social  con- 
ditions of  life,  is:  must  they  necessarily  remain  as  tney 
are?  Are  we  confronting  the  operations  of  the  unchanjje- 


CAUSES  OF  THE  EVILS  IX  THE  ECONOMIC  WOELD.     237' 

able  laws  of  nature,  or  the  consequences  of  man's  folly 
and  imbecility?  Why  does  a  small  minority  revel  in  the 
enjoyment  of  every  good,  in  whose  production  it  takes  no 
part?  Why  is  a  certain  class  of  human  beings,  consisting  of 
millions,  precondemried  to  hunger  and  wretchedness? 
This  is  the  most  important  point  of  the  problem  that  is  to 
be  solved.  The  question  is:  do  the  poor  starve  because 
the  earth  does  not  produce  food  in  sufficient  quantities 
for  them  to  have  their  share,  or  because  they  can  not  obtain 
possession  of  what  is  produced  in  plenty?  We  can  exclude 
the  latter  alternative  from  our  discussion.  If  provisions 
were  produced  in  ample  abundance  with  a  sufficiency  for 
all,  then  the  share  which  would  fall  to  the  poor  man  and 
which  he  can  not  afford  to  buy,  would  be  left  over,  Ex- 
perience proves  that  nothing  of  the  kind  takes  place.  As 
each  year  comes  around,  the  entire  harvest  of  bread-stuffs 
and  other  food  products,  is  used  up  by  the  time  the  new 
harvest  is  gathered  in.  The  annual  supply  of  provisions 
is  exhausted  when  the  new  supply  pours  into  the  markets, 
and  yet  not  every  individual  of  the  whole  human  race  has 
been  able  to  eat  his  fill  every  day  in  the  year;  no  bread- 
stuffs  are  thrown  away  from  over-supply  and  meat  never 
rots  for  lack  of  purchasers.  To  be  sure  the  rich  waste 
more  goods  than  they  actually  require  to  satisfy  the 
regular  requirements  of  che  body,  but  amongst  these 
goods  the  most  material,  provisions,  are  in  the  smallest 
proportion  to  the  rest.  The  millionaire  squanders  the 
results  of  man's  labor  to  gratify  his  whims,  his  love  of 
luxury  or  his  vanity.  He  throws  aside  clothing  which  is 
far  from  being  no  longer  serviceable,  He  builds  houses  of 
unnecessary  size  and  fills  them  with  superfluous  furniture. 
He  takes  men  away  from  useful  production  and  maintains 
them  in  criminal  idleness  as  lackeys  and  companions,  or 
in  semi-occupation  as  coachmen,  body  servants,  eto.  But 


238  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

in  regard  to  provisions,  he  consumes  at  the  utmost  hardly 
more  than  four  times  what  he  actually  requires  to  satisfy 
his  organic  wants,  even  making  allowance  for  the  most 
wasteful  housekeeping.  Let  us  assume  that  there  are  a 
million  of  such  extravagant  beings  in  the  civilized  world; 
with  their  families  we  can  estimate  the  number  at  five 
millions.  These  five  millions  would  consume  provi- 
sions sufficient  for  twenty  millions,  so  that  in  addition  to 
their  own  natural  share  they  use  up  that  of  fifteen  million 
other  human  beings.  This  would  only  explain  the  factthat 
fifteen  millions  are  entirely  deprived  of  their  share  of 
food,  or  that  thirty  millions  merely  receive  one  half  of  what 
they  are  naturally  entitled  to.  But  the  number  of  those 
Uiman  beings  in  Europe  alone,  who  suffer  from  hunger 
and  want,  can  be  estimated  with  certainty  at  twice  that 
number,  that  is,  sixty  millions.  Consequently  we  must 
accept  the  other  alternative  and  decide  that  the  earth  does 
not  produce  sufficient  food  for  all,  and  hence  that  a  part 
of  the  human  race  is  condemned  without  mercy  to  abso- 
lute, physiological  want. 

Is  this  the  result  of  natural  causes?  Does  the  earth 
produce  no  more  because  it  is  incapable  of  producing 
more?  No.  It  does  not  give  food,  because  food  is  not 
asked  of  it.  When  the  science  of  economy,  created  and 
upheld  by  Capital,  was  confronted  by  the  problem  of  the 
disproportion  between  the  hungry  multitudes  and  the 
amount  of  food  products  destined  to  satisfy  their  hungar, 
it  did  not  torment  its  thinking  faculties  very  long,  but 
soon  came  across  an  honest  fellow  named  Malthus  who 
proclaimed  without  prejudice  or  partiality:  "The  time  has 
come  when  the  earth  is  no  longer  able  to  support  her 
children.  Therefore  we  must  diminish  their  number."  And 
he  preached  prudence  in  marrying  and  temperance  after 
marriage — but  only  for  the  poor,  A  trifle  more  and  he 


DOES  THE  EARTH  PRODUCE  SUFFICIENT  FOK  ALL?    239 

would  have  advocated  the  castration  of  every  individual 
born  without  a  regular  income,  and  the  re-organization  of 
humanity  upon  the  pattern  of  the  societies  of  ants  and 
bees  which  have  but  a  few  individuals  possessing  the 
power  of  propagating  their  species,  while  the  majority 
is  composed  of  sexless  individuals  who  have  only  the  right 
to  labor  for  those  more  completely  developed.  Such  a 
condition  of  affairs  could  not  fail  to  complete  the  happi 
ness  of  the  millionaires.  It  never  entered  the  heads  of 
the  pious  Malthus  and  his  disciples,  to  state  their  principle 
in  a  reversed  form:  "The  provisions  produced  by  the  earth 
are  not  sufficient  to  support  her  children.  Therefore  we 
must  increase  the  amount  of  provisions,"  and  yet  it  seems 
as  if  this  would  be  the  most  natural  remedy  for  the  eco- 
nomic distress.  There  surely  can  not  be  any  man  in  exis- 
tence, in  possession  of  his  reasoning  faculties,  who  would 
dare  to  assert  that  it  is  impossible  to  increase  the  amount 
of  agricultural  products.  If  there  does  exist  such  a  fool, 
he  can  easily  be  silenced  by  a  few  figures.  Europe  sup- 
ports 310  millions  of  inhabitants  upon  an  area  of  9.710.340 
square  kilometers;  that  is,  it  supports  them  aided  by  the 
contributions  of  provisions  it  receives  from  India,  southern 
Africa,  Algeria,  North  America  and  Australia.  Enormous 
quantities  of  grain  and  meat  are  imported  from  these 
countries  into  Europe,  which  sends  them  nothing  in  re- 
turn, except  perhaps,  wines.  And  yet  with  all  this  stream 
of  food  flowing  into  the  country  a  considerable  portion  of 
the  population  suffers  from  actual  want.  Europe  as  a 
whole,  thus  confesses  its  incapability  of  supporting  32 
human  beings  on  one  square  kilometer.  But  Belgium 
supports  5.536.000  inhabitants  on  an  area  of  29.455  kilo- 
meters, consequently  in  this  country  one  kilometer  is 
amply  sufficient  to  support  200  human  beings,  a  number 
six  times  as  large  as  that  which  we  have  found  to  be  the 


2*0  THB  ECONOMIC  LM. 

average  for  Europe  as  a  whole.  If  the  soil  throughout 
the  whole  of  Europe  were  cultivated  like  that  of  Belgium, 
it  could  support  a  population  of  1950  millions,  much  more 
completely  and  abundantly  than  the  316  millions  it  now 
supports  so  poorly.  Or  if  the  number  of  the  population  re- 
mained the  same,  each  man  would  have  six  times  as  much 
food  as  he  couid  consume.  But  we  are  reminded  that  Bel- 
gium imports  provisions  also,  showing  that  its  agricultural 
products  are  notsufficient  to  feed  the  nation.  Very  well,  let 
us  assume  that  Belgium  buys  one  quarter  of  the  provisions 
it  requires  in  foreign  lands.  Even  proceeding  upon  this 
assumption  we  find  that  it  supports  150  inhabitants  on 
each  square  kilometer,  which  figure  applied  to  Europe 
gives  us  a  population  of  1458  millions  which  it  could 
support,  more  than  all  mankind  now  numbers.  Let  us 
take  another  example.  China,  without  its  dependencies, 
has  an  area  of  4.024.890  square  kilometers,  upon  which 
are  dwelling  405  millions  of  human  beings.1  The  square 
kilometer  supports  100  people  and  supports  them  com- 
pletely, for  China,  far  from  importing  provisions,  exports 
large  quantities  of  rice,  preserves,  tea,  etc.  According 
to  the  unanimous  testimony  of  all  travellers  in  China, 
hunger  and  want  are  only  experienced  there  in  years  when 
the  crops  fail  to  come  to  maturity.  And  this  famine  is 
only  the  result  of  the  undeveloped  means  of  transportation, 
not  of  a  deficit  in  the  agricultural  products  of  the  whole 
Empire.  Thus  we  see  that  if  the  soil  of  Europe  were 
tilled  and  managed  like  that  of  China,  it  could  support 
1000  millions  of  human  beings  instead  of  its  316  millions 
who  are  so  poorly  fed  that  they  are  emigrating  annually 
by  hundreds  of  thousands  to  other  parts  of  the  world. 

Why  is  not  more  exacted  of  the  soil  when  experience 
shows  that  it  responds  so  readily  to  all  demands  made 
upon  it?  Why  does  not  mankind  make  the  effort  to  raise 


TO  FORSAKE  NATUBE  18  TO  STABVB,  341 

agricultural  products  sufficient  for  every  human  being  to 
have  enough  and  to  spare?  Why?  Owing  to  one 
single  reason:  the  accumulation  of  capital  has  led  to  a 
one-sided  and  unnatural  development  of  our  civilization. 
Civilization  is  crowding  towards  manufactures  and  trade 
all  the  time,  turning  its  back  upon  the  production  of  food. 
Physiocracy  which  teaches  us  that  the  true  wealth  of  a 
country  lies  solely  in  its  agricultural  products,  has  been 
held  up  to  ridicule  during  the  last  hundred  years,  by  the 
official  science  of  political  economy,  which  has  conde- 
scended so  far  as  to  be  the  court  jester  of  the  present 
arrangement  of  the  economic  world,  founded  upon  egotism 
and  Capital. 

The  son  of  the  soil  forsakes  his  plough,  the  freedom 
of  the  country  and  nature  and  the  pure,  abundant  sun- 
shine and  air,  to  force  his  way  into  that  fatal  prison,  the 
factory,  and  take  up  his  abode  in  some  pestilential  tene- 
ment house  in  the  big  city,  in  obedience  to  a  kind  of 
suicidal  instinct.  The  same  instinct  seems  to  impel  the 
human  race  as  a  whole,  to  abandon  the  food-producing 
soil  and  cast  themselves  into" the  slough  of  manufacturing 
industry  where  they  suffocate  and  starve  "The  whole 
genius  of  mankind,  all  its  powers  of  invention,  contrivance 
and  investigation,  all  its  enquiry  and  experiments,  are 
applied  exclusively  to  manufactures.  We  see  the  results: 
the  machines  grow  more  and  more  wonderful,  the  systems 
of  labor  more  and  more  perfect,  the  production  of  goods 
more  and  more  prolific.  But  hardly  one  inventive  genius 
in  a  hundred  busies  himself  with  the  production  of  food- 
If  only  one  half  as  much  study  and  ingenuity  were  applied 
to  this  production  as  to  the  industrial  arts,  physiological 
want  would  not  only  cease  to  exist  on  earth,  but  would 
become  absolutely  inconceivable.  But  this  branch  of 
human  industry,  the  most  important  of  all,  is  the  very  one 


242  THE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

that  is  neglected  to  such  a  degree  that  we  wring  our  hands 
in  despair.  In  the  domain  of  manufactures  we  are  highly 
civilized  beings,  but  in  regard  to  the  cultivation  of  the 
soil,  we  are  still  in  a  barbarism  as  dark  as  midnight.  We 
congratulate  ourselves  upon  our  marvelous  ingenuity  in 
employing  and  rendering  valuable  by  means  of  our  man- 
ufactures, the  refuse  and  waste  formerly  considered  abso- 
lutely worthless.  But  at  the  same  time,  we  are  allowing 
at  least  one  half  of  the  refuse  from  food-products,  the 
contents  of  the  city  sewers,  to  escape  us,  without  being 
utilized,  and  be  emptied  into  the  rivers,  to  pollute  them. 
The  sea,  their  final  destination,  does  not  return  in  its 
fishes  and  pearls  a  thousandth  part  of  the  value  of  what 
we  pour  into  it.  This  waste  of  millions  of  tons  of  the 
most  valuable  waste  products  is  positively  atrocious  and 
yet  it  is  comical  when  we  see  the  anxiety  and  care  with 
which  the  tiniest  drop  of  sulphuric  acid  is  saved  and  util- 
ized in  the  chemical  laboratories,  and  the  tearing  haste 
with  which  an  inventor  secures  a  patent  when  he  has 
succeeded  in  perfecting  a  process  by  which  the  refuse 
from  some  manufacture  can  be  turned  to  a  profitable 
account.  We  boast  of  having  harnessed  the  powers  of 
nature  and  yet  we  allow  millions  of  acres  of  land  to  re- 
main barren,  although  we  know  theoretically  that  there 
is  not  a  single  district  that  must  of  necessity  remain  a 
desert.  We  know  that  every  kind  of  soil,  even  if  it  con- 
sists of  iron  shoe  nails  or  crushed  stones,  can  be  made 
productive  by  heat  and  water,  whose  application  is 
not  beyond  human  power  except — perhaps — at  the  poles. 
We  point  with  pride  to  our  coal  and  copper  mines  which 
are  tunneled  deep  into  the  earth  and  under  the  ocean,  and 
yet  we  «vre  not  ashamed  of  the  bare  mountain  sides  above 
them,  from  which  man,  the  same  being  who  has  burrowed 
into  their  depths,  is  unable  to  produce  anything.  We 


AGRICULTURE  NEGLECTED  BY  OUR  CIVILIZATION.      24 '.', 

can  control  the  lightning  from  the  skies  and  yet  are  not 
able  to  procure  more  than  an  atom  of  the  inexhaustible 
treasures  of  food  that  are  concealed  in  the  oceans  which 
deprive  us  of  three  fourths  of  the  entire  globe.  How 
can  we  explain  the  fact  that  in  a  period  which  gives  birth 
to  such  mechanical  marvels  as  our  labor-saving  appliances 
and  the  more  delicate  tools  and  instruments  capable  of  such 
astonishingly  minute  and  accurate  work,  we  allow  swamps, 
rivers  without  fish,  uncultivated  tracts  and  waste  land,  to 
exist  in  the  midst  of  Europe?  How  can  it  be  that  the 
generation  after  Gauss  is  so  -weak  in  its  mathematical 
faculties,  that  it  does  not  reckon  upon  its  fingers  how 
much  more  expensive  it  is  to  supply  the  alburnenous  food 
needed  by  the  body,  by  meat  from  cattle,  which  require 
so  much  productive  land  to  be  left  waste  for  their  pastur- 
age, instead  of  by  fish,  with  which  the  sea  is  teeming, 
while  it  can  be  used  in  no  other  way,  or  by  poultry,  which 
do  not  require  large  meadows  to  roam  over,  and  can  be 
abundantly  fed  from  the  refuse  of  the  kitchen? 

However  I  will  not  proceed  any  further  into  details. 
The  fact  seems  to  me  sufficiently  demonstrated  that  the 
cultivation  of  the  soil  is  the  step-child  of  our  civilization. 
It  hardly  takes  one  forward  stride  where  manufactures 
take  a  hundred.  The  only  progress  realized  in  the  pro- 
duction of  food  for  mankind  during  several  centuries,  is 
the  introduction  of  the  potato  into  Europe,  which  makes 
it  possible  for  the  operative,  the  proletaire,  to  imagine  that 
his  hunger  is  satisfied,  when  at  the  same  time  his  body  is 
slowly  starving  to  death  for  want  of  proper  nutriment,  while 
it  enables  the  capitalist  to  screw  down  the  wages  of 
his  employes  to  the  lowest  possible  point.  Fruit  and 
vegetable  gardens,  mushroom  beds,  show  us  what  a  wealth 
of  provisions  can  be  produced  on  the  tiniest  scrap  of 
ground.  Experience  teaches  us  that  man's  labor,  as  a 


244  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

general  thing,  can  nowhere  be  employed  more  lucratively 
than  in  agriculture.  If  a  man  should  work  over  his  field 
with  the  shovel  and  spade  instead  of  the  summary  plough 
he  would  find  that  a  plot  of  ground  of  incredibly  small 
size  would  be  sufficient  to  support  him.,  But  mankind  is 
suffering  for  want  of  food,  provisions  are  growing  more 
and  more  expensive,  and  the  wages-receiver  must  work 
an  increased  number  of  hours  each  day  to  get  enough  to 
eat.  Nature  shows  man  that  he  can  not  live  apart  from 
her,  without  the  soil,  that  he  requires  the  field  as  the  fish 
requires  water.  Man  recognizes  that  he  sinks  lower  and 
lower  when  he  forsakes  the  soil,  that  the  farmer  is  the 
only  one  who  remains  healthy  and  strong,  -vvhile  the  city 
yaps  the  very  marrow  in  the  bones  of  its  inhabitants, 
rendering  them  liable  to  disease  and  unfruitful,  so  that 
each  family  absolutely  rots  out  in  two  or  three  genera- 
tions. The  city  would  become  in  a  hundred  years  an 
enormous  cemetery,  without  a  single  living  being  within 
its  walls,  if  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  there  is  a  constant 
influx  of  people  from  the  country  to  fill  up  the  ranks  left 
vacant  by  death.  In  spite  of  their  knowledge  and  appre- 
ciation of  these  facts  men  continue  to  abandon  the  fruitful 
fields  &nd  flock  to  the  cities,  to  tear  themselves  away  from 
life  and  throw  themselves  into  the  arms  of  death. 

Now  the  professor  of  political  economy  steps  up 
again  and  says  with  an  air  of  bland  confidence  and  intre- 
pidity that  the  measure  of  development  to  which  the 
manufacturing  industries  of  a  country  have  attained,  is  at 
the  same  time,  the  measure  of  its  civilization,  and  that  an 
advanced  stage  of  manufactures  is  a  blessing  to  the  nation 
as  it  makeg  the  goods  produced  so  cheap  as  to  be  within 
the  reach  of  the  poorest.  This  is  one  of  the  most  widely 
spread  and  most  frequently  repeated  lies  with  which 
Capital  seeks  to  deceive  mankind.  A  plague  upon  such 


CHEAPNESS  Oi-  MANUFACTURED  GOODS  NO  BLESSING.  245 

cheapness!  It  is  a  benefit  to  no  one,  except  perhaps  to  the 
manufacturer  and  merchant.  We  have  seen  how  this 
cheapness  of  the  manufactured  articles  is  brought  about: 
by  the  competition  between  capitals,  carried  on  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  operatives,  and  by  the  conscience-less,  crimi- 
nal exhaustion  of  the  powers  of  human  labor.  The  factory 
employe  must  be  chained  to  his  machine  ten,  twelve,  per- 
haps fourteen  hours  a  day,  so  that  cotton  cloth  may  bo 
sold  at  this  cheap  rate.  He  finds  no  opportunity  to  enjoy 
even  the  mere  privilege  of  living.  He  spends  his  life  in- 
side the  dreary  factory  walls,  making  continually  a  suc- 
cession of  identical,  automatic  movements,  as  the  machine 
requires  it.  He  is  the  sole  living  being  in  the  universe 
who  spends  the  greater  part  of  his  life-time  in  work  con- 
trary to  nature,  merely  to  keep  himself  alive.  Of 
course  the  goods  decline  in  price  as  the  result  of  such 
labor.  At  the  same  time  they  deteriorate  in  quality.  The 
entire  development  of  our  manufactures  tends  constantly 
towards  the  substitution  of  lower  grade  raw  material  for 
higher  grade,  and  to  the  employment  of  the  smallest 
possible  amount  of  it  in  the  finished  article.  Why?  Be- 
cause the  raw  material,  if  of  an  organic  nature,  is  derived 
from  the  animal  or  vegetable  kingdoms,  and  can  only  be 
procured  for  its  actual  value  in  labor,  hence  it  is  expen- 
sive. The  earth  does  not  allow  herself  to  be  cheated;  she 
gives  cotton  and  flax,  wood  and  wool,  but  only  in  pro- 
portion as  she  receives  the  equivalent  in  labor  and  nourish- 
ment. The  cow  and  the  sheep  can  not  be  screwed  down 
to  nothing;  they  will  only  produce  their  hides  and  wool, 
horns  and  hoofs,  if  they  are  properly  supplied  with  food. 
Man  alone  is  more  stupid  than  the  earth,  more  easily  im- 
posed on  than  the  cow  and  the  sheep.  T  I<>  tfive8  UP  hi* 
nerve  and  muscular  strength  without  demanding  its  full 
value  in  exchange.  Hence  the  manufacturer  has  every 


246  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

reason  to  be  saving  of  the  expensive  raw  material,  and 
lavish  of  the  cheap  human  labor.  He  adulterates  and 
diminishes  the  quantity  of  the  former  but  gives  the  finished 
products  a  handsome  appearance  by  laborious  or  com- 
plicated processes  of  labor,  that  is  to  say,  by  an  unstinted 
use  of  human  labor.  In  the  finished  piece  of  calico  offered 
by  the  English  manufacturer  in  the  market,  there  is  the 
smallest  possible  amount  of  cotton  fibre  and  the  largest 
possible  amount  of  human  labor.  The  calico  is  cheap  be- 
cause the  manufacturer  is  not  obliged  to  pay  his  human 
slaves  for  their  toil  as  much  as  the  earth  requires  for  her 
cotton  fibre.  But  it  is  far  from  necessary  that  these 
goods  should  be  so  cheap.  Their  low  price  leads  to  an 
extravagant  use  of  them.  Even  the  poor  people  in  our 
present  civilization,  renew  their  clothing  and  household 
goods  oftener  than  is  strictly  necessary,  and  throw  aside 
articles  that  could  still  yield  good  service,  that  in  reality 
io  continue  to  yield  service,  as  is  shown  by  the  great 
trade  in  second-hand  clothing  etc.,  between  Europe  and 
the  colonies.  At  the  close  of  the  year  the  European  has 
spent  the  same  amount  for  clothing  as  he  would  have 
spent  if  the  goods  had  been  far  higher  in  price,  for  in  the 
latter  case,  he  would  certainly  have  worn  them  longer. 
Thus  we  see  the  practical  results  of  this  vaunted  lowness 
of  prices,  the  pride  of  the  economic  world.  It  does  not 
bring  any  actual  relief  or  saving  to  the  consumer,  because 
the  tyrannical  custom  of  lavish  use  of  the  goods  keeps 
pace  with  it.  It  is  a  curse  to  the  labor  that  produces  the 
goods  because  it  diminishes  the  amount  of  its  earnings 
more  and  more,  while  compelling  it  to  constantly  increas- 
ing exertions.  Every  individual  that  does  not  belong  to 
the  minority  of  wealthy  idlers,  is  a  producer  of  some  one 
article  and  a  consumer  of  others.  Hence  the  result 
of  the  whole  vaunted  development  of  the  manufactur- 


INCREASED  PRODUCTION  AND  LOWER  PEICE8.         24T 

ing  industries  in  our  civilization,  is  nothing  more  than  a 
mad  chase  growing  wilder  and  fiercer  every  day,  in  which 
each  participant  is  at  the  same  time  hunter  and  hunted, 
driving  the  soul  out  of  the  body  and  ending  in  a 
sudden  collapse  with  lolling  tongue  and  breath  entirely 
spent. 

Longer,  harder  toil  for  the  producer,  frenzied,  crimi- 
nal extravagance  in  the  consumer — these  are  the  direct 
results  of  the  development  of  manufacturing  industries, 
which  tends  constantly  towards  increased  production  and 
lower  prices.  Let  us  assume  that  all  finished  products 
were  four  times  as  dear  as  they  are  now,  while  provisions 
remained  the  same — this  is  easily  conceivable  if  the  de- 
velopment of  the  agricultural  industries  should  overtake 
or  pass  beyond  that  of  the  manufacturing  industries. 
Where  would  be  the  harm?  1  see  none,  but  on  the  con- 
trary, enormous  benefits  to  mankind.  Each  individual 
would  renew  his  clothing  once  instead  of  four  times  a 
year,  and  his  household  goods  once  in  twenty  years, 
instead  of  once  in  five.  The  factory  employ^  would 
receive  four  times  the  wages  at  present  paid  him;  that  is, 
if  he  is  now  obliged  to  toil  twelve  hours  to  earn  sufficient 
to  support  life,  he  would  obtain  the  same  result  with  three 
hours'  labor.  The  expenses  of  the  individual  consumer 
would  'amount  to  the  same  sum  total  as  before,  at  the 
close  of  the  year.  But  one  enormous  result  would  bo 
gained;  the  laboring-man  would  cease  to  be  a  galley- 
slave  and  become  a  man.  That  highest  of  all  luxuries,  of 
which  he  is  now  completely  deprived:  leisure,  would 
conic  within  his  reach.  This  means  that  he  could  have 
his  share  of  the  higher  pleasures  of  civilized  life,  that  he 
oould  visit  museums  and  theatres,  read,  converse,  medi- 
tate, that  he  would  cease  to  be  a  machine  and  could  as- 
sume the  rank  of  a  man  among  other  men.  We  must 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

call  to  the  laboring  classes:  You  are  caught  in  a  horrible 
whirlpool.  Escape  or  you  are  lost!  The  more  you  toil 
tne  cheaper  become  your  productions,  the  consumption  of 
them  grows  more  lavish,  you  must  work  still  longer  and 
harder  tomorrow  to  get  the  means  to  support  your  sheer 
existence.  Stop  work  for  awhile!  Loaf  part  of  your  time! 
Decrease  your  work  by  a  half,  by  a  quarter!  Your  earn- 
ings will  remain  the  same  if  every  one  only  consumes 
what  he  actually  requires,  and  only  labors  as  much  as  he 
is  obliged  to. 

The  professors  of  political  economy  are  not  of  this 
opinion.  They  have  a  horror  of  leisure  for  mankind  and 
believe  that  all  good  and  happiness  lie  in  the  most  ex- 
treme exertions  of  man's  laboring  faculties.  Their  doctrine 
can  be  condensed  into  two  commandments:  Thou  shalt 
consume  as  much  as  possible,  no  matter  whether  the  con- 
sumption is  justified  by  actual  necessity  or  not;  thou 
shalt  produce  as  much  as  possible  no  matter  whether  the 
productions  are  needed  or  not.  These  wise  men  make 
no  distinction  between  the  fice- works  destined  to  flare  up 
for  a  minute  or  two,  to  astonish  some  idle  blockheads,  and 
the  machine  that  turns  out  useful  bedsteads  and  ward- 
robes, year  after  year.  The  fire- works  cost  $10.000;  they 
represent,  in  addition  to  the  materials,  the  labor  of  fifty 
men  for  one  year,  who  were  during  that  time  in  perpetual 
danger.  The  machine  costs  $2.000.  But  the  professor  of 
political  economy  continues  his  dissertation  with  gentle 
impartiality:  The  fire- works  are  worth  five  times  as  much 
as  the  machine;  the  workmen  are  equally  usefully  em- 
ployed in  producing  them;  the  production  of  the  fire- 
works added  to  the  wealth  of  the  country  as  much  as  if 
five  bed-making  machines  had  been  produced;  and,  if  it 
were  possible  to  keep  a  million  workmen  employed  in  the 
oianufacture  of  such  fire- works,  producing  thus  a  billion 


ARTICLES  OF  LUXUBY.  249 

dollars  worth  of  them  annually,  and  disposing  of  them, 
then  the  country  could  be  congratulated  upon  the  blos- 
soming of  such  an  interesting  industry  and  the  workmen 
upon  their  diligence  and  ability. 

According  to  established  theories,  this  train  of  thought 
is  without  a  flaw.  According  to  actual  practice  it  is  a 
scholastic  sophistry  of  the  worst  kind.  Certainly  it  is  true 
that  if  a  man  can  get  as  much  money  for  a  rocket  as  for 
a  fowl,  then  the  rocket  is  worth  as  much  as  the  fowl,  and 
he  who  makes  a  rocket  adds  as  much  to  the  wealth  of  the 
nation  as  he  who  raises  a  fowl.  And  yet  it  is  a  lie.  No, 
it  is  not  the  same  to  humanity  whether  rockets  or  fowls 
are  produced.  No,  the  Alpine  guide  is  not  as  valuable  to 
the  human  race  as  the  fireman  of  the  steam  thrashing 
machine,  although  it  may  pay  him  higher  wages  than  the 
latter.  I  know  that  my  distinctions  are  leading  me  to 
attack  all  articles  of  luxury.  1  do  not  hesitate  then  to 
declare  that  no  human  being  has  the  right  to  demand  the 
gratification  of  his  whims,  as  long  as  the  actual  necessities 
of  others  are  unsatisfied,  to  employ  workmen  in  the  pro- 
duction of  fire- works,  for  example,  as  long  as  others  are 
famishing,  because  this  workman  is  withdrawn  from  the 
cultivation  of  the  soil,  or  to  condemn  the  factory  opera- 
tives to  fourteen  hours  a  day  of  slavish  toil,  so  that  the 
price  of  velvet  may  be  low  enough  for  him  to  clothe  him- 
self in  the  material  the  most  pleasing  to  his  esthetic  taste. 

The  great  end  and  aim  of  humanity  in  the  field  of 
political  economy,  is  not  the  production  of  commodities 
for  which  a  price  can  be  obtained,  but  to  satisfy  with  its 
labor  the  actual  organic  wants  of  the  body.  There  are 
but  two  kinds  of  organic  wants:  food  and  propagation. 
The  former  has  for  its  purpose  the  preservation  of  the 
individual,  the  latter  the  preservation  of  the  race.  We 
might  apparently  trace  these  two  wants  to  one  single 


250  f  HE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

source  and  omit  the  necessity  for  the  preservation  of  the 
race  as  not  being  actually  necessary.  But  only  appar- 
ently. The  impulse  for  race  preservation  is  as  much 
stronger  than  the  impulse  for  individual  self-preservation, 
as  the  vital  energies  and  strength  of  the  race  are  more 
powerful  than  those  of  the  individual.  It  has  never  yet 
happened  that  a  considerable  body  of  human  beings,  an 
entire  tribe,  were  prevented  for  any  considerable  length 
of  time  from  obeying  their  natural  impulse  to  perpetuate 
the  race.  If  such  a  case  should  ever  happen,  if  there  should 
ever  arrive  a  general  national  sex-famine,  the  most  horrible 
scenes  of  days  of  famine  that  the  world  has  ever  seen 
would  fade  into  insignificance  compared  with  the  passions 
and  acts  of  violence  that  would  then  be  seen.  The  two 
great  organic  wants  of  mankind  must  hence  be  satisfied; 
every  thing  beyond  these  is  of  secondary  importance.  It 
is  possible  for  an  individual  whose  appetite  is  fully  sati:-fied, 
who  is  protected  from  the  cold,  with  a  shelter  against  the 
wind  and  rain  over  his  head  and  a  companion  of  the  op- 
posite sex  by  his  side,  to  be  not  only  contented  but  abso- 
lutely happy  and  without  further  desires.  A  hungry 
individual  can  not  be  happy  nor  even  contented,  even  if 
he  were  dressed  in  goldbrocade  and  listening  to  a  magni- 
ficent orchestral  concert  in  the  Vatican  Museum.  This  is  so 
self-evident  that  it  is  absurd  to  state  it.  It  is  the  prosaic 
moral  of  the  fable  of  the  cock  who  found  a  pearl  and 
complained  because  }t  was  not  a  grain  of  corn.  And  yet 
this  truism  is  beyond  the  mental  grasp  of  the  official  polit- 
ical economy.  It  lias  never  occurred  to  any  of  the  pro- 
fessors of  this  sublime  science  to  test  their  doctrines  by 
the  homely  wisdom  of  Lafontaine's  book  of  fables.  Ap- 
plied to  the  development  of  our  civilization  in  regard 
the  matters  of  political  or  national  economy,  the  fable  of 
the  cock  and  the  pearl  means  simply  this:  "Less  Man- 


THE  RESULTS  OP  EXCESSIVE  MANUFACTURING.       251 

Chester  cotton  goods  and  Sheffield  knives,  and  more  bread 
and  meat!" 

What  theory  has  neglected  up  to  the  present  time 
practice  will  soon  set  about  in  earnest:  viz.  to  demonstrate 
the  preposterousness  of  the  definitions  and  principles  of 
the  present  science  of  political  economy  invented  and 
maintained  by  arid  for  Capital,  and  accepted  without 
enquiry  by  the  world.  Already,  the  world  over,  man  is 
laboring  beyond  all  reason  and  producing  beyond  all 
demand.  Almost  every  civilized  country  is  trying  to  ex- 
port manufactured  articles  and  import  provisions.  The 
markets  for  the  former  are  beginning  to  fail.  We  can  sav 
without  fear  of  exaggeration,  that  the  great  manufacturing 
industries  of  the  principal  countries  in  Europe  have  found 
all  the  markets  they  ever  will  find.  These  conditions  can 
only  grow  worse,  never  better.  The  countries  which  are 
not  yet  developed  as  regards  manufactures  are  gradually 
becoming  so.  Processes  of  labor  will  be  still  more  im- 
proved, machines  still  further  increased  and  perfected,  and 
then?  Then  each  country  will  be  able  to  supply  its  own 
demand  for  manufactured  articles  and  have  an  abundance 
left  over  that  it  will  try  to  dispose  of  to  its  neighbor,  but 
in  vain,  for  the  latter  will  have  no  use  for  them.  The 
very  last  naked  negro  on  the  upper  Congo  will  have  his 
fifty  yards  of  cotton  cloth  and  his  gun,  the  very  last  Pap- 
uan his  boots  and  his  paper  collars.  The  European  will 
have  then  reached  the  point  of  buying  a  new  suit  of  clothes 
fvvery  week,  and  having  a  machine  to  turn  over  the  leaves 
of  his  magazine.  This  will  be  the  Golden  Age  of  the 
political  economists  who  are  so  captivated  by  unrestricted 
production,  unbounded  consumption  and  an  unlimited 
development  of  manufactures.  And  in  this  Golden  Age, 
when  the  entire  country  will  be  set  as  thick  with  factory 
chimneys  as  it  is  now  with  trees,  the  people  will  live  on 


252  THE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

chemical  substitutes  for  food  instead  of  bread  and  meat 
they  will  toil  eighteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty  four  and 
die  without  knowing  that  they  have  ever  lived.  Perhaps 
it  will  not  be  necessary  to  wait  until  this  Golden  Age 
arrives,  for  the  fact  to  dawn  upon  certain  enlightened 
minds  or  circles,  that  this  excessive,  one-sided  industrialism 
is  a  wholesale  suicide  of  the  human  race,  and  that  every- 
thing which  the  science  of  political  economy  alleges  in 
its  favor  is  a  lie  and  a  fraud.  Wo  have  already  become 
convinced  of  the  fact  that  a  country  which  exports  bread- 
stuffs,  if  it  exhausts  the  soil  and  does  not  return  to  it  in 
some  way  or  other,  the  matter  of  which  it  is  deprived  by 
the  growing  grain,  is  gradually  growing  poorer,  although 
untold  millions  may  be  pouring  into  it  from  other  coun- 
tries. We  will  become  convinced  of  another  fact  sooner 
or  later,  that  the  exportation  of  labor,  of  muscle  and 
nerve,  in  the  shape  of  manufactured  articles,  will  make  a 
people  grow  poorer  and  poorer,  no  matter  how  much  gold 
it  receives  in  exchange  for  them.  The  European  factory 
operative  is  even  now,  the  slave  of  the  negro  on  the  Congo. 
He  stills  his  hunger  with  potatoes  and  vile  whisky,  he 
spends  his  life  in  the  machine-rooms  and  dies  of  tubercu- 
losis, so  that  some  barbarian  may  lead  a  more  comfortable 
existence  than  has  hitherto  been  the  case.  This  feverish 
labor  which  is  not  applied  to  the  production  of  food  but 
to  industrial  over-production  will  finally  produce  a  nation 
of  hungry  money-bags.  The  world  may  then  behold  the 
spectacle  of  a  country  where  a  piano  of  the  very  latest 
make  stands  in  every  cottage,  the  people  rustling  in 
brand-new  clothing,  but  with  rachitis  in  their  bones,  no 
blood  in  their  veins  and  consumption  in  their  lung-s. 


AB8UBDITY  OF  COMMUNISM.  253 

IV. 

The  sentiment  in  regard  to  the  unendurable  condi- 
tions of  affairs  in  the  economic  world  is  universal.  The 
wretched  operative  whose  daily  hunger  keeps  the  subject 
always  in  his  mind,  knows  that  he  produces  wealth  by  the 
labor  of  his  hands,  and  he  is  demanding  his  share  of  the 
riches  he  thus  creates.  But  he  commits  the  mistake- of 
founding  his  demand  upon  all  sorts  of  reasons  that  do  not 
stand  the  test  of  criticism.  There  is  only  one  single  true 
and  natural  argument  which  he  can  call  to  his  aid,  and 
that  is  unanswerable:  the  argument  that  he  has  the 
power  to  take  possession  of  the  goods  which  he  produces, 
that  the  rich  are  in  the  minority  and  unable  to  prevent 
this  appropriation,  consequently  that  he  has  the  right  to  keep 
what  he  makes  and  to  help  himself  to  what  he  needs. 
The  whole  of  the  present  structure  of  society  is  built  upon 
this  argument  as  its  sole  foundation.  This  argument 
makes  the  weaker  individuals  and  peoples  slaves  of  the 
stronger;  it  makes  millionaires  out  of  shrewd  and  un- 
scrupulous men  and  sets  up  Capital  as  the  absolute  master 
of  the  whole  world.  The  minority,  the  loafers  and  plun- 
derers, make  constantly  use  of  this  argument  to  silence  the 
demands  of  the  laboring  and  plundered  classes.  But  the 
wages- receiver,  whose  mind  in  spite  of  all  its  Radicalism,  is 
still  entangled  in  the  meshes  of  the  ideas  of  right  and  mo- 
rality inculcated  by  Capital,  he  hesitates  to  employ  this  un- 
answerable argument,  based  upon  the  laws  and  instincts 
of  nature.  He  prefers  to  seek  the  justifiableness  of  his 
claims  in  all  kinds  of  out  of  the  way  excuses  and  ideas, 
among  which  Communism  is  the  most  widely  accepted 
and  believed.  Thus,  in  the  most  foolish  manner,  he 
enters  upon  territory  in  which  he  is  sure  to  be  defeated. 

Capital  has  no  difficulty  at  all  in  proving  the  absurd- 


254  THE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

ity  of  this  theory.     In  fact  Communism,  as  all  socialistic 
schools  comprehend  and  preach  it,  is  the  outgrowth  of  a 
preposterous     chimera,      evolved     from     the     inflamed 
imagination   of  certain  dreamers,  deaf  and  blind   to  the 
realities  of  the  world  and  human  nature.     Actual  com- 
munity in  property  or  the  negation  of  individual  rights  in 
property,  has  never  existed  since  the  world  began.     That 
condition  of  property  holding  which  a  superficial  observer 
might  consider  to  be  Communism,  and  of  which  several 
examples   have   occurred  in   historic   times,   some   even 
existing  in  a  few   isolated  places  at  the  present  day,  is 
founded  upon  the  basis  of  individual  ownership  of  prop- 
erty, separate  from  the  mass  of  property  existing  in  the 
world  at  large.     When  such  a  perfect  cohesion  and  sense 
of  fellowship  exists  among  a  small  number  of  individuals 
owing  to  their  common  descent  or  to  other  causes,  that  a 
family,  a  village  or  a  whole  tribe,  considers  itself  as  one 
single  being  of  a  higher  order  of  creation,  then  it  is  con- 
ceivable that  this  collective  individual  should  possess  an 
indivisible  collective  amount  of  property,  which  the  single 
individual  could  not  control  and  use  for  his  own  advantage 
and  to  the  prejudice  of  others.     This  kind  of  collective 
property  holding,  which  exists  in  several  places  in  Europe 
at  the  present  time,  such  as   the  Russian  Mir  and  the 
united  households  of  the  Croatians  and  Slavonians,  has 
nothing  in  common  with  Communism,  that  is,  fundamental 
and   universal   community   in   property  throughout   the 
world,  as  can  easily  be  demonstrated.     Just  let  an  out- 
sider, an  individual  not  accepted  as  a  member  of  the  circle 
of  joint  owners  of  the  common  property,  let  him  attempt 
to   get  possession   of  the   smallest  fragment  of  it!   The 
entire  tribe,  village,  Mir,  etc,  will  rise  up  in  arms  at  once 
to  repel  the  intruder.    The  joint  possessors  of  the  common 
capital  are  imbued  so  strongly  with  the  sense  of  proprie- 


INDIVIDUAL  PROPRIETORSHIP  A  NATURAL  IXSTINCT.    255 

torship  in  it,  that  they  rebel  against  any  appropriation  of 
any  part  of  it  by  outsiders,  with  as  much  liveliness  of  in- 
dignation as  an  individual  proprietor  would  experience  if 
an  attack  was  made  upon  his  purse.  And  even  this  col- 
lective proprietorship,  which  is  by  no  means  actual  Com- 
munism, but  only  a  more  primitive  form  of  personal 
ownership  of  property,  can  only  exist  as  long  as  every 
member  of  the  community  experiences  directly  and  pro- 
foundly his  cohesion  and  fellowship  to  and  with  the  rest.  Its 
perpetuation  depends  also  upon  the  similarity  of  the  labor 
performed  by  the  members,  so  that  the  efforts  made  by 
each  can  be  compared  easily  and  directly  with  those  of  the 
rest,  and  no  doubts  arise  as  to  their  relative  value  or 
importance.  As  soon  as  a  division  of  labor  takes  place  and 
different  kinds  of  production  are  carried  on  in  the  collec- 
tive community,  the  necessity  will  arise  to  compare  tht> 
relative  values  of  certain  kinds  of  labor,  each  useful  in  its 
way,  but  differing  completely  in  every  other  respect.  It 
will  be  impossible  to  estimate  justly  and  satisfactorily  to 
each  member,  the  utility  and  pecuniary  value  of  his  labor, 
as  it  differs  in  kind  from  that  of  those  around  him,  con- 
sequent'y  the  collective  proprietorship  in  the  results  of 
the  efforts  of  all  must  necessarily  come  to  an  end,  and  the 
ownership  of  property  individualize  itself  in  a  very  short 
time.  Thus  we  see  that  the  solution  of  the  economic 
problem  is  not  to  be  looked  for  in  Communism.  It  is  a 
natural  condition  possible  only  in  very  low  forms  of  col- 
lective associations,  and  could  not  exist  in  a  form  of  ani- 
mal life  so  highly  developed  as  in  our  human  society. 
Individual  possession  is  the  natural  condition  not  only  of 
men,  but  of  most  animals.  The  source  of  the  impulse  for 
individual  proprietorship  is  the  necessity  for  the  gratifica- 
tion of  individual  wants.  Every  animal  must  supply 
itself  with  nourishment  and  many  require  also  an  arti- 


256  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

ficially  prepared   shelter   or  natural   hiding-place.     The 
food  and  the  nest  or  den  which  it  has  found  or  made  for 
itself,  is  considered  by  the  animal  as  its  property.  It  feels 
that  these  things  belong  to  it,  and  to  no  other  being,  and 
will  not  submit  without  resistance  to  being  deprived  of 
them  by  any  other  individual.  A  life  that  makes  foresight 
and  provision  for  the  future  a  necessity,  leads  to  the  ex- 
tension of  this  sentiment  of  proprietorship  and  to  the  de- 
velopment of  the  impulse  for  acquiring  increased  individ- 
ual possessions.     A  beast  of  prey,  which  lives  upon  fresh 
meat,  fixes  the  limits  of  his  proprietorship  in  the  total 
amount  of  fresh  meat  existing,  at  the  qu  ntity  which  he 
requires  for  one  single  meal.     But  an  animal  which  lives 
upon  a  vegetable  diet,  if  his  home  is  in  a  region  where 
there  is  a    winter   with  a  cessation  of  vegetation,  helps 
himself  from   the  common  store-house    of  nature  to  far 
more  than-  is  necessary   to  supply    his  immediate  wants. 
He  accumulates  more  food  than  he  can  possibly  require 
during  the  coming  months,  thus  decreasing  without  any 
organic  necessity,  the  amount  of  food  at  the  disposal  of 
other  animals,  he  becomes  a  capitalist  and  an  unscrupulous 
egotist.     In  this  way  squirrels,  field  mice,  marmots,  etc., 
heap  up  quantities  of  nuts  and  fruits  of  all  kinds  in  their 
holes  to  provide  for  the  coming   winter,   which   is    not 
all   consumed  at   the  return  of  spring,  when  they  can  find 
food    again    in    the  fields    and   forests.     They   not   only 
realize  the  possibility  of  their  personal  proprietorship  but 
they  accumulate  wealth,  they  become  rich,  in  the  sense 
of  owning  more  than  they  require  for  their  actual  wants. 
Man  belongs  in  the  category  of  animals  to  whom  provision 
for  ftie  future  is  necessary.     The  acquisition  of  individual 
property,  to  increase  it  beyond  what  is  actually  required 
for  the  moment,  to  defend  it  against  the  encroachments  of 
others,  these  are  natural  vital  actions  and  instincts  in  him 


INHERITANCE  OPPOSED  TO  ALL  OF  NATURE'S  LAWS.     257 

to  which  he  is  impelled  by  the  fundamental  impulse  of 
self-preservation,  and  which  are  impossible  to  eradicate. 
Even  under  the  most  violent  compulsion  of  laws  framed 
in  opposition  to  them,  they  would  assert  themselves  again 
and  again  with  their  elementary  strength. 

But  if  individual  proprietorship  is  a  natural  instinct, 
and  hence  utterly  refuses  to  be  suppressed,  there  is  one 
application  of  the  right  of  personal  possession  against 
which  reason  absolutely  revolts,  and  for  whose  existence 
no  natural  causes  can  be  produced — this  is  inheritance.  It 
is  true  that  the  impulse  for  the  preservation  of  the  species 
impels  all  living  beings  to  care  for  their  offspring  and  to 
provide  the  most  favorable  conditions  of  existence  possi- 
ble for  them.  But  this  care  never  extends  beyond  the 
moment  when  the  young  creatures  are  sufficiently  devel- 
oped to  care  for  themselves  without  outside  assistance,  as 
the  parents  did  before  them.  There  is  only  sufficient 
stored  up  food  in  the  seed  of  the  plant  or  in  the  white  oi 
the  egg,  to  supply  the  embryo  with  nourishment  during  its 
earliest  stage  of  life — the  time  of  absolute  helplessness. 
The  mammiferous  animals  give  milk  to  their  young  only 
as  long  as  they  are  unable  to  graze  or  hunt  food  for  them- 
selves, and  the  parent  birds  cease  to  bring  worms  to  their 
little  ones  as  soon  as  they  have  successfully  accomplished 
their  first  independent  flight. 

Man  alone  wishes  to  provide  his  descendants  with 
their  stored  up  food,  their  albumen,  their  milk  and  their 
worms,  to  the  third  and  fourth,  to  untold  generations. 
Man  alone  is  anxious  to  keep  his  children  and  great 
grand-children,  into  the  most  distant  future,  in  the  em- 
bryonic condition  in  which  the  young  of  all  animals  are 
provided  for  by  the  beings  to  whom  they  owe  their  ex- 
istence; he  will  not  abandon  them  to  their  own  resources. 
When  a  man  accumulates  a  fortune,  he  wishes  to  be- 


258  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

queath  it  to  his  family  in  such  a  way  that  its  members 
will  be,  if  possible,  relieved  for  ever  from  the  necessity  of 
earning  their  own  livelihood.  This  is  contrary  to  all  of 
nature's  laws.  It  is  a  violent  disturbance  of  the  regular 
arrangement  of  the  world,  according  to  which  every  living 
being  is  compelled  to  win  for  himself  his  place  at  the 
great  table  of  nature,  or  else  perish.  This  disturbance  of 
nature's  regulations  is  the  cause  of  all  the  evils  of  the 
economic  world.  And  while  it  condemns  enormous 
masses  of  individuals  to  wretchedness  and  want,  it  at  the 
same  time,  takes  its  revenge  upon  its  originators.  It  is  in 
vain  that  the  rich  withdraw  from  the  commonwealth  their 
accumulated  possessions  with  unconsciously  criminal  ego- 
tism, in  order  to  ensure  a  life  of  luxury  and  leisure  to 
their  children  and  their  children's  children  forever,  they 
never  accomplish  their  design.  Experience  teaches  us 
that  no  wealth  lasts  through  several  generations  without 
some  business  efforts.  Inherited  fortunes  never  remain 
long  in  a  family,  and  even  Rothschild's  millions  may  not 
protect  his  descendants  of  the  sixth  or  eighth  generation 
from  poverty,  unless  they  possess  those  qualities  which 
would  have  enabled  them  to  win  a  high  place  for  them- 
selves in  the  world  without  any  inherited  millions.  These 
fact?  show  the  operation  of  an  implacable  law,  which  is 
constantly  striving  to  bring  about  an  equilibrium  in  the 
economic  life  of  society,  so  grievously  disturbed  by  the 
unnatural  conditions  of  inherited  property.  An  indivi- 
dual who  has  never  been  confronted  with  the  necessity  of 
calling  his  most  primitive  organic  instinct,  the  acquiring 
of  food,  into  play,  soon  loses  the  ability  to  retain  his  pos- 
sessions and  to  defend  them  against  the  greed  of  those 
without  possessions,  who  encroach  upon  him  on  every 
side.  Only  when  all  the  descendants  of  a  family  are  ab- 
solutely mediocre  natures,  and  live  far  from  all  public  and 


THE  LAW  OF  ENTAIL.  259 

private  agitation,  in  complete  obscurity,  the  world  for- 
getting   and    by    the    world   forgot,   leading   a   regular 
vegetable  existence,  can  they  hope  to  retain  undiminished 
the  possessions  that  form  their  heritage.     But  as  soon  at 
this  family  produces  an  individual  gifted  with  more  imag- 
ination, who  surpasses  in  any  direction  the  standard  of 
mediocrity  prevalent  in  the  family,  with  passions  or  am- 
bition, eager  to  shine  or  at  least  to  appreciate  life's  possi- 
bilities, the  family  inheritance  is  doomed  to  decrease  or 
ruin,  because  this  off-shoot  of  the  wealthy  family  is  abso- 
lutely incapable  of  replacing  even  one  penny  of  the  sum3 
he  spends*  in  the  gratification  of  his  whims.     It  is  with 
wealth  as  it  is  with  an  organism.     The  latter  must  have 
vital  activity  to  maintain  life;  as  soon  as  the  vital  pro- 
cesses cease  in  its  cells  it  falls  a  prey  to  corruption,  and  is 
consumed  by  the  microscopic  beings  with  whom  nature  is 
teeming,  seeking  whom  they  may  devour.     In  the  same 
way  we  can  say  that  life  becomes  extinct  in  a  fortune  in 
which  the  vital  processes  of  exchange  and  circulation  are 
not  carried  on,  so  that  it  is  preyed  upon  and  soon  devoured 
by  the  greedy  companions  of  corruption,  the  parasites, 
swindlers,  cheats  and  speculators.     The  body  of  a  fortune 
can  be  artificially  protected  against  decay  and  putrefaction 
as  well  as  a  human  body;  the  latter  by  antiseptics,  the 
former  by  a  special  law — which  ensures  the  perpetuation 
of  the  property  intact,  that  is,  the  law  of  entail.    This  law 
of  entail  is  an  invention  which  affords  us  an  interesting 
proof  of  the  fact  that  the  rich  egotists  have  always  had  a 
dim  suspicion  of  the  unnatural.iess  of  the  right  of  inherit- 
ance.    The  man  of  wealth  feol.s  that  he  is  committing  a 
crime  against  humanity  and  that  nature  will  take  her  re- 
venge upon  his  descendants  for  his  contempt  of  her  laws, 
consequently  he  erects  a  last  barrier  against  her  assault 
He  forsees  that  his  children  will  not  have  anus  strong 


260  THfi  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

enough  to  hold  fast  to  their  heritage,  so  he  ties  it  to  their 
bodies  with  ropes  and  cords  that  no  one  can  unfasten. 
But  even  the  law  of  entail,  this  carbolio  acid  bath  for 
dead  fortunes,  loses  its  efficacy  after  a  while  and  ceases  to 
protect  the  inherited  wealth  against  xjorruption  and  decay 
and  the  family  against  economic  shipwreck. 

The  right  of  inheritance  must  be  abolished.  This  is 
the  only  natural  and  hence  the  only  possible  cure  for  the 
ulcers  in  the  body  of  society  caused  by  the  present  con- 
ditions of  political  economy.  Such  a  proposition  seems 
extremely  radical  at  the  first  glance,  appearing  to  be 
practically  the  confiscation  of  all  inJividual  property. 
But  examined  loser,  we  find  that  it  is  only  the  consistent 
development  01  certain  phenomena  now  existing,  which 
cause  no  one  uneasiness.  The  right  of  primogeniture  is 
maintained  in  those  countries  which  cling  most  tenaciously 
to  the  feudal  organization  of  society.  This  right  consists 
in  the  systematic  disinheritance  of  all  the  children,  a'l  the 
descendants,  with  the  exception  of  one,  thu  fir^t-born; 
so  that  it  is  identical  with  my  proposition,  with  this  one  ex- 
ception. Hence  we  see  that  the  most  conservative  peer 
of  England  carries  my  proposition  into  action,  although  it 
may  seem  so  revolutionary  to  some  of  my  readers.  If  we 
see  nothing  wrong  and  certainly  nothing  impossible,  in 
the  exclusion  of  all  the  children  and  descendants  of  an 
English  nobleman,  except  tne  first-born,  from  their  share 
in  the  enjoyment  of  the  fortune  he  leaves  behind  him  at 
his  death,  why  should  we  consider  it  wrong  or  impossible 
to  treat  all  the  children  of  the  man  of  wealth  in  the  *ame 
way?  It  is  true  that  the  peer  who  disinherits  his  younger 
children  gives  them  other  possessions,  education  and 
training,  which  enable  them  to  take  their  places  in  society. 
But  if  all  accumulations  of  property  passed  into  the  pos- 
session of  the  community  upon  the  li&ih  of  the  accumu- 


THE  RIGHT  OF  INHERITANCE  MUST  BE  ABOLISHED.    261 

lator,  the  State  would  be  able  to  give  all  the  youth  of  the 
land  an  education  and  training  adapted  to  their  capacity, 
and  all  the  disinherited  would  have  at  least  the  same  ad- 
vantages as  are  enjoyed  today  by  the  disinherited  younger 
son  of  the  peer.     But  the  peer  provides  for  his  younger 
children  to  whom  he  bequeaths  none  of  his  wealth,   by 
employing  his  family  and  political  connections  to  obtain 
situations  for  them  in  the  service  of  the  State,  community 
or  among  his  friends,  which  have  more  or  less  the  charac- 
ter of  a  benefice  or  perpetual  office.     What  is  this  more 
than  an  organized  solidarity,  which  offers  the  individual 
even  greater  securities  for  a  comfortable  existence  than  an 
independent  fortune?  It  is  true  this  solidarity  is  narrow 
'  and  selfish;  it  is  confined  to  one  caste  and  has  for  its  sole 
purpose  the  plundering  of  thy  majority  for  the  benefit  of 
a  few  parasites.     Let  us  imagine  the  limits  of  this  soli- 
darity widened  to  include  the  whole  community  and  its 
purpose,  not  to  support  parasites,  but  to  perform  necessary 
and  useful  work;  let  us  imagine  a  state  which  provides 
instruction  and — if  the  parents  are  incapable  of  bearing 
the  expense — food,  clothing  and  shelter  for  all  the  chil- 
dren within  its  limits  until  they  are  old  enough  to  enter 
upon  their  business  career,  and  when    this  time  arrives, 
supplies  them  with  tools  and  materials  for  independent 
labor.     In  such  a  community  of  fellowship  would  not  each 
individual  be  well  provided  for,  and  would  the  absorption 
of  the  father's  wealth  at  his  decease,  into  the  public  treas- 
ury be  an  act  of  injustice  against  the  children? 

I  can  not  deny  for  a  moment  that  the  practical  real- 
ization of  this  scheme  would  at  first  meet  with  many  and 
difficult  obstacles.  Thu  parents  would  try  to  escape  from 
the  necessity  of  bequeathing  their  property  to  the  State 
by  presenting  it  to  their  children  and  others  while  they 
were  still  alive.  This  would  result  in  the  practical  inner- 


262  THE  ECONOMIC  LIB. 

itance  of  a  part  of  their  patrimony  by  the  children,  and  it 
could  only  be  prevented  by  the  State  with  difficulty.  But 
this  source  of  fraud  is  of  very  small  importance  to  the 
system  as  a  whole.  The  adoption  of  it  would  exert  such 
an  influence  upon  the  views  and  opinions  of  humanity 
that  they  would  soon  be  radically  changed  from  what 
they  are  at  present.  The  parents  would  learn  to  appre- 
ciate the  fact  that  in  the  new,  reorganized  community, 
lack  of  fortune  did  not  mean  poverty  and  wretchedness 
for  the  child,  consequently  the  impulse  to  ensure  a  regular 
mcome  to  it  through  life  would  become  much  weaker. 
The  State  would  find  little  or  no  trouble  in  getting 
control  of  the  notes,  bonds,  stocks,  etc.,  which  form  the 
greater  part  of  the  floating  capital  of  the  world;  all  house- 
hold goods,  works  of  art  and  single  objects  of  value 
might  be  exempted  from  confiscation  and  retained  by 
the  children  as  mementoes  of  their  parents;  there  would 
be  no  possibility  for  evading  the  law  in  the  matter  of  real 
estate.  But  the  most  important,  indeed,  the  only  essen- 
tial point  of  the  whole  system  is  this:  the  land  with  all 
the  houses,  buildings,  factories,  trading  establishments, 
etc.,  that  on  it  are,  must  become  the  unalienable  property 
of  the  community  and  come  into  its  direct  possession  at 
the  close  of  each  generation.  Any  one  desirous  of  own- 
ing land  or  factories,  will  receive  a  title  to  them  for  his 
life-time  from  the  State,  for  which  he  must  pay  an  annual 
rental,  which  will  be  a  certain  percentage  of  the  total 
amount  of  capital  represented. 

This  idea  is  no  unprecedented  revolutionary  innova- 
tion, as  some  would  suppose,  but  merely  the  further  de- 
velopment of  certain  conditions  existing  at  the  present 
day  in  many  countries,  especially  in  England  and  Italy. 
In  these  countries  there  are  many  landed  proprietors  who 
do  Dot  cultivate  their  land  with  their  own  hands,  but  rent  it 


THE  LAND  NATIONAL  PROPERTY.  263 

nant  farmers.  There  is  nothing  to  prevent  society  from 
placing  the  manufacturer  and  the  tillers  of  the  soil  upon  the 
same  footing  as  the  English  tenant  farmer,  with  one  great 
proprietor  as  the  master  of  them  all:  the  State.  This  ar- 
rangement of  the  economic  world  would  make  it  possible 
for  the  single  individual  to  accumulate  personal  property  by 
his  sagacity  and  industry  as  at  present,  although  not  to 
such  an  enormous  extent  as  the  fortunes  of  the  pirates 
and  parasites  of  our  modern  civilization.  The  talented, 
the  industrious  man  would  find  in  a  more  luxurious 
manner  of  living  the  reward  for  his  greater  ability  or 
efforts,  the  man  of  mediocre  capabilities  and  the  indolent 
man,  would  be  obliged  to  live  more  frugally,  while  the 
individuals  who  shirked  or  refused  to  work  would  be  the 
only  ones  condemned  to  want.  The  accumulation  of 
enormous  quantities  of  land  in  the  possession  of  one 
single  tenant  could  not  occur,  as  he  would  experience 
such  difficulty  in  finding  laborers  to  till  his  land,  owing 
to  the  fact  that  as  any  one  willing  to  work  could  rent  land 
from  the  State,  no  one  would  have  any  inducement  to 
drudpfe  for  another  when  he  could  be  his  own  master  and 

O 

enjoy  the  blessings  and  fruits  of  independence.  The  devel- 
opment of  the  system  leads  necessarily  to  a  condition  in 
which  each  individual  would  require  only  so  much  land  as 
he  alone,  or  with  the  help  of  his  family,  could  successfully 
cultivate.  The  unnatural  development  of  manufacturing 
industries  at  the  expense  of  the  agricultural,  would  thus 
be  prevented.  For  as  the  individual  would  have  it  in 
his  power  to  become  an  independent  farmer  as  easily  as 
a,  factory  operative,  he  would  not  enter  upon  the  latter 
career  unless  it  offered  him  a  pleasanter  and  more  profit- 
able existence  than  farming,  and  the  multitudes  now  seek- 
ing work  in  such  numbers  in  the  factories,  underbidding 
each  other,  and  satisfied  with  the  very  smallest  possible' 


264  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

amount  of  life's  goods  and  enjoyments,  such  a  class  would 
be  inconceivable  in  a  society  reorganized  according  to  this 
system.  Real  difficulties  in  carrying  it  out  would  not 
arise  until  the  country  became  too  densely  populated  and 
the  soil  exhausted.  When  these  conditions  arrive  and 
it  is  found  impossible  to  supply  all  the  demands  for  pro- 
ductive land  and  factories,  then  a  part  of  the  young  people 
must  decide  upon  emigration.  However,  an  extremely 
intensive  cultivation  of  the  soil,  such  as  I  mentioned 
above,  will  postpone  this  necessity  to  a  far  distant  future. 
There  is  no  doubt  but  what  this  system  is  a  kind  of 
Communism.  But  let  him  who  shudders  and  turns  pale 
at  this  word,  remember  that  we  are  living  now  in  the 
midst  of  a  complete  Communism,  only  it  is  a  passive  in- 
stead of  an  active  Communism.  We  have  no  community 
in  possessions,  but  we  have  a  community  in  debts.  No 
one  is  shocked  at  the  fact  that  every  citizen  merely  on 
account  of  his  being  a  citizen  of  the  State,  is  a  debtor  to 
an  amount  varying  in  different  countries ;  in  France  for  ex- 
ample, it  is  nearly  $120  per  capita.  Why  should  any  one 
be  shocked  at  the  idea  of  the  citizen  owning,  instead  of 
owing,  in  consequence  of  a  complete  revolution,  a  corres- 
ponding amount  of  property,  if  the  State  should  possess 
common  property  as  well  as  common  debts?  In  such  a  case 
the  State  would  not  be  always  taking  taxes  from  its  citizens, 
but  distributing  benefits  among  them,  as  it  now  does  to  a 
small  number  of  them,  comprising  the  privileged  class. 
Besides,  the  State  already  possesses  property  of  all  kinds  in 
buildings,  lands,  forests,  ships  etc.  The  existence  of  this 
property,  which  is  certainly  not  individual  possessions  but 
belongs  collectively  and  indivisibly  to  all  the  citizens  to- 
gether, is  certainly  communism  but  it  is  not  recognized  as 
such  by  the  people,  because  the  forms  of  government  and 
the  public  institutions  inherited  from  the  Middle  Ages, 


OUR  CIVILIZATION  A  PASSIVE  COMMUNISM.  265 

favor  the  idea  tnat  this  common  property  is  an  individual 
property  belonging  to  the  king  or  ruler  of  the  state  who- 
ever he  may  be.  The  public  debts,  public  property  and 
taxation  are  not  the  only  forms  in  which  Communism 
exists  in  our  civilization.  Certain  kinds  of  credits  are 
nothing  but  the  rankest  Communism.  When  one  man 
lends  another  money  from  his  pocket  or  offers  him  a  draft 
secured  by  a  mortgage  upon  his  private  fortune,  which  is 
accepted  by  a  third  person  like  so  much  cash,  then  it  is 
practically  an  exchange  of  individual  property.  But  when 
a  bank  offers  unsecured  notes  in  circulation — and  in  many 
banks  the  amount  of  unsecured  notes  is  a  third  or  more 
of  the  entire  number  of  notes  in  circulation — and  gives  a 
man  in  exchange  for  his  signature  on  a  note,  a  number  of 
these  unsecured  notes  with  which  he  can  go  forth  and  buy 
anything  he  wishes,  then  the  transaction  is  an  act  of  the  most 
complete  Communism.  The  bank  does  not  give  its  saved-up 
labor,  that  is  gold,  but  a  certificate  for  certain  labor  to  be  per- 
formed in  the  future.  The  fact  that  the  community  will 
give  up  goods,  receiving  these  unsecured  notes  in  ex- 
change, is  a  proof  of  the  respect  in  which  mankind  holds 
this  principle  of  human  solidarity,  and  a  recognition  of 
the  concomitant  fact  that  the  individual  member  of  the 
community  has  a  right  to  a  share  in  the  goods  existing  in 
it,  even  when  he  can  ndl  offer  in  exchange  for  this  share 
any  personally  produced  equivalent. 

The  absorption  of  all  goods  into  the  public  property 
after  the  death  of  the  accumulator,  would  lead  to  an  al- 
most inexhaustible  public  fund,  without  interfering  with 
individual  possession.  Each  member  of  the  community 
would  have  then  his  individual  and  general  property  as  he 
has  his  baptismal  and  family  name.  The  public  property 
with  which  he  is  born,  is  like  his  family  name;  the  private 
fortune  which  he  accumulates  during  the  course  of  H" 


266  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

life  and  of  which  he  is  the  sole,  unmolested  proprietor  and 
usufructuary,  is  his  baptismal  name,  and  both  taken  to- 
gether represent  his  economic  personality  as  the  names 
represent  his  personality  as  a  citizen.  While  he  is 
toiling  for  himself  he  is  working  for  the  community,  which 
will  some  day  fall  heir  to  all  the  surplus  remaining  after 
his  expenditures  have  ceased.  The  public  fortune  will 
be  a  vast  reservoir,  receiving  the  surplus  of  the  rich  and 
dealing  out  blessings  to  the  poor,  regaining  its  normal 
level  once  in  every  generation  and  thus  equalizing  the  in- 
equalities in  the  distribution  of  property,  which  inheri- 
tance on  the  contrary,  fixes  indelibly  and  increases  in 
each  generation. 

To  such  a  new  arrangement  of  the  politico-econo- 
mical organization  of  society  the  world  must  come  at 
last,  because  reason  and  the  ideas  of  mankind  in  regard  to 
man  and  the  universe  based  upon  natural  science,  demand 
it.  One  single  fundamental  principle  must  govern  society, 
and  this  principle  must  be  either  individualism,  that  is, 
egotism  or  the  solidarity,  the  cohesive  fellowship  of 
mankind,  that  is,  altruism.  At  the  present  day  neither 
fellowship  nor  egotism  are  ruling  alone,  but  a  combination 
of  both,  which  is  as  unreasonable  as  it  is  inconsistent. 
Possession  is  organized  upon  a  personal  basis  and  egotism 
reaches  in  the  laws  governing  inheritance  the  utmost 
limits  to  which  it  can  attain,  by  no^  only  seizing  by  stealth 
and  violence  everything  that  it  can  lay  hands  on,  but  by 
clinging  to  the  plunder  forever  and  ever  and  excluding 
the  rest  of  mankind  from  ever  sharing  in  its  benefits.  Ttio 
man  of  property  however,  will  not  allow  the  man  without 
property  to  call  that  principle  to  his  aid  to  which  the  for- 
mer owes  his  wealth.  Fortunes  are  accumulated  in  the 
name  of  individualism;  but  they  are  defended  in  the 
name  of  human  solidarity.  The  rich  man  enjoys  his  dis- 


EGOTISM  A  MERIT  IN  THE  RICH,  A  CRIME  IV  THE  POOR.  267 

proportionate  share  of  life's  blessings  of  which  he  has  made 
himseli'  master  by  unblushing  egotism;  but  when  the  poor 
man  helps  himself  to  them  with  some  of  the  rich  man's 
egotism  and  selfishness,  he  is  arrested.  In  the  form  of 
usury  and  speculation  the  unscrupulous  furtherance  of 
self-interest  is  allowable,  but  it  is  strictly  forbidden  when 
it  takes  the  form  of  robbery  and  theft.  The  same  prin- 
ciple applied  in  the  former  case  is  a  merit,  in  the  other  a 
crime.  Human  reason  revolts  at  such  ideas.  If  egetism 
is  to  be  preached  let  it  be  consistent  and  assert  its 
right  in  all  cases.  If  it  is  right  for  the  rich  man  to 
luxuriate  in  a  life  of  leisure  because  he  has  been  able  to 
get  possession  of  landed  estates  or  to  take  advantage  of 
the  labor  of  others,  then  it  must  also  be  conceded  to  be 
right  for  the  poor  man  to  strike  him  dead  and  take  possession 
of  his  property  as  the  spoils  of  victory,  if  he  has  the  cour- 
age and  strength  to  undertake  and  carry  through  such  an 
undertaking.  This  is  logical.  It  is  true  that  such  logic 
would  soon  bring  society  to  destruction  and  our  civiliza- 
tion to  the  dogs,  and  men  would  become  like  beasts  of 
prey  wandering  alone  through  the  land  and  tearing  each 
other  to  pieces.  But  any  one  who  is  not  pleased  with 
this  abstract  aim  of  our  social  development,  egotism,  has 
no  other  alternative  before  him  but  to  accept  the  other 
sole  principle,  fellowship.  The  motto  will  no  longer  be: 
Every  one  for  himself,  but:  One  for  all  and  all  for  each. 
Society  will  then  assume  the  responsibility  of  supporting 
and  educating  the  youth  of  the  country  until  they  can  earn 
their  own  livelihood,  of  supporting  those  too  old  and  feeble 
to  support  themselves,  of  coming  to  the  aid  of  infirmity, 
without  allowing  hunger  and  distress  to  exist  except  as 
the  punishment  of  voluntary  idleness.  But  these  respon- 
sibilities can  only  be  accepted  and  fulfilled  upon  one  con- 
dition: the  abolition  of  the  right  of  inheritance. 


268  THE  ECONOMIC  LIE. 

Great  catastrophes  are  looming  up  on  the  field  of 
political  economy  and  it  will  not  be  possible  to  ignore 
them  much  longer.  As  long  as  the  masses  were  religious, 
they  could  be  consoled  for  their  wretchedness  on  earth  by 
promise's  of  unlimited  bliss  in  the  future.  But  today  they 
are  becoming  more  enlightened  and  the  number  of  those 
patient  sufferers  is  daily  growing  less  who  find  in  the 
Host  a  satisfactory  substitute  for  their  dinner  and  accept 
the  priests'  order  on  the  place  waiting  for  them  in  para- 
dise with  as  much  pleasure  as  if  it  were  some  good 
terrestrial  farm  of  which  they  could  take  immediate  posses- 
sion. The  poor  count  their  numbers  and  those  of  the  rich 
an  1  realize  that  they  are  constantly  growing  more  numerous 
and  stronger  than  the  latter.  They  examine  the  sources 
of  wealth  and  they  find  that  speculating,  plundering  and 
inheriting  have  no  more  rational  justification  for  existing 
than  robbery  and  theft,  and  yet  the  latter  are  prosecuted 
by  the  laws.  The  increasing  disinheritance  of  the  masses 
by  their  deprivation  of  land  and  by  the  increasing  accum- 
ulations of  property  in  the  hands  of  a  few,  will  make  the 
economic  wrongs  more  and  more  intolerable.  The  mo- 
ment that  the  millions  acquire  in  addition  to  their  hunger, 
a  knowledge  of  the  remote  causes  to  which  it  is  due,  they 
will  remove  and  overthrow  all  obstacles  that  stand 
between  them  and  the  right  of  satisfying  their  appetite. 
Hunger  is  one  of  the  few  elementary  forces  which  neither 
threats  nor  persuasion  can  permanently  control.  Hence  it 
is  the  power  which  will  probably  raze  the  present  struct- 
ure of  society  level  with  the  ground,  in  spite  of  its  foun- 
dations of  superstition  and  selfishness — a  task  beyond  th" 
power  of  philosophy  alone. 


The  Matrimonial  Lie. 

i. 

Man  has  two  powerful  instincts  which  govern,  his 
whole  life  and  give  the  first  impulse  to  all  his  actions: 
the  instinct  of  self-preservation  and  the  instinct  of  race- 
preservation.  The  former  reveals  itself  in  its  simplest 
form  as  hunger,  the  latter  as  love.  The  forces  which 
produce  the  phenomena  of  nourishment  and  propagation 
are  still  obscure  to  us,  but  we  can  watch  their  operation 
clearly.  We  do  not  know  why  one  individual  completes 
his  circle  of  development  in  a  certain  number  of  years 
instead  of  another;  why  the  large  and  powerful  horse  can 
only  grow  to  be  35  years  old,  while  the  smaller  and  weaker 
animal,  man,  on  the  contrary,  lives  to  be  70;  why  the  raven 
lives  200  years,  while  the  goose,  so  much  larger,  only 
lives  20  years.  But  what  we  do  know  is  that  every  living 
being  is  destined  to  a  certain  length  of  life  from  the  mo- 
ment of  its  birth,  like  a  clock  wound  to  run  a  certain 
number  of  hours  —  this  time  can  be  shortened  by 
the  operation  of  casual,  external  forces,  but  under  no 
circumstances  can  it  be  lengthened.  In  the  same  way 
we  assume  that  the  species  is  destined  to  last  a  certain 
term  of  years;  like  an  individual  it  arises  at  a  certain  fixed 
moment,  is  born,  developes,  comes  to  maturity  and  dies. 
The  cycle  of  life  of  a  species  is  too  extended  for  men  to 
be  able  to  determine  by  direct  observation  the  moment  of 
its  beginning  and  end.  But  paleontology  gives  us  suffi- 
cient data  to  enable  us  without  hesitation,  to  announce  as 


270  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIE. 

a  fact  the  parallelism  of  the  laws  governing  the  life  and 
development  of  the  individual  and  of  the  species.  As 
long  as  an  individual  has  not  exhausted  the  vital  energies 
with  which  it  was  born,  it  strives  with  all  the  exertion 
of  which  it  is  capable,  to  support  itself  and  protect  itself 
against  its  enemies.  When  the  vital  energies  are  exhausted 
it  experiences  no  longer  any  need  for  food  nor  any  impulse 
to  protect  itself,  and  dies.  In  the  same  way  the  vital 
energies  of  the  species  are  revealed  by  the  impulse  for 
propagation.  As  long  as  the  vital  energies  of  the  species 
are  at  their  prime  every  fully  developed  individual  strives 
with  all  its  might  to  provide  itself  with  a  mate.  As  the 
vital  energies  of  the  species  begin  to  ebb,  the  individuals 
of  which  it  is  composed,  grow  more  and  more  indifferent 
to  the  subject  of  propagating  and  finally  cease  entirely 
to  regard  it  as  indispensable.  We  possess  an  un- 
failing means  of  determining  the  exact  degree  of  vital 
energy  in  a  given  species,  race  or  nation,  in  the  proportion 
between  the  egotism  and  altruism  of  the  individuals  com- 
prised in  it.  The  larger  the  number  of  beings  who  place 
their  o\vn  interests  higher  than  all  the  duties  of  solidarity 
and  all  the  ideals  of  the  development  of  the  species,  the 
nearer  is  the  species  to  the  end  of  its  vital  career.  While 
on  the  other  hand,  the  more  individuals  there  are  in  a 
nation  who  have  an  instinct  within  them  impelling  them 
to  deeds  of  heroism,  self-abnegation  and  sacrifice  for  the 
community,  the  more  potent  are  the  vital  energies  of  the 
race.  The  decay  of  a  people  as  well  as  of  a  family,  begins 
with  the  preponderance  of  selfishness.  The  prevalence 
of  egotism  is  the  unerring  sign  that  the  vitality  of  tho 
species  is  exhausted,  which  will  soon  be  followed  by  the 
exhaustion  of  the  vitality  of  the  individual,  unless  he  is 
able  to  secure  a  reprieve  by  favorable  crossings  or  chan- 
ges. When  a  race  or  a  nation  attains  to  this  point  in  its 


LOVE  THE  MEASURE  OF  THE  VITAL  ENERGIES  OP  A  PEOPLE.  271 

life-career,  its  individuals  lose  their  ability  to  experience 
normal  and  natural  love.  The  family  instinct  dies  out. 
The  men  do  not  wish  to  marry  because  they  find  it  in- 
convenient to  assume  the  burden  of  responsibility  for 
another  human  life  and  to  provide  for  another  being  be- 
side themselves.  The  women  avoid  the  pains  and  incon- 
veniences of  motherhood  and  even  when  married,  strive 
by  the  most  unhallowed  means  to  remain  childless.  The 
instinct  of  propagating,  which  has  lost  its  aim  of  repro- 
ducing the  species,  dies  out  in  some  persons  and  in  others, 
degenerates  into  the  strangest  and  most  abnormal  com- 
plications. The  act  of  generation,  that  most  sublime  func- 
tion of  the  organism,  which  can  not  take  place  until  it  has 
reached  its  full  maturity  and  with  which  are  connected 
the  most  powerful  sensations  of  which  the  nervous  system 
is  capable,  is  degraded  into  a  mere  wanton  sensuality  no 
longer  having  for  its  object  the  preservation  and  reproduc- 
tion of  the  species,  but  merely  a  gratification  of  the  senses, 
without  the  slightest  aim  or  value  for  the  community. 
Where  love  still  appears,  as  a  relic  or  case  of  atavism,  it 
is  not  the  union  of  two  incomplete,  half  individualities 
into  one  whole  and  complete  individuality  of  a  higher 
type,  it  is  not  the  transformation  of  a  sterile  single  life 
into  a  fruitful  dual  life,  that  can  be  perpetuated  in  its 
offspring  far  into  futurity,  it  is  not  the  unconscious  blend- 
ing and  extinction  of  egotism  in  altruism,  it  is  not  the 
discharging  of  the  stagnant  waters  of  an  isolated,  indiv- 
idual existence  into  the  rushing,  impetuous  stream  of  the 
existence  of  the  race — it  is  nothing  but  a  strange  longing 
incomprehensible  even  to  itself,  partly  revery,  partly 
hysteria,  partly  self-deception,  reminiscences,  self-appli- 
cation of  what  has  been  heard  and  read,  combined  with 
a  sickly,  sentimental,  morbid  imagination,  and  partly 
sheer  lunacy,  emotional  or  melancholy  insanity.  Un- 


272  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIB. 

natural  vices  spread  and  increase,  but  while  indecency 
is  holding  its  orgies  in  secret,  an  especially  sensitive  prud- 
ishness  is  displayed  in  public.  The  proverb  which  says 
that  in  the  hangman's  house  no  one  speaks  of  the  rope,  is 
exemplified  by  a  people  whose  conscience  is  guilty  in 
regard  to  the  sexes,  and  is  fully  conscious  of  its  sins  of 
omission  and  commission  in  this  respect;  it  avoids  any 
reference  to  the  sexual  life  with  the  scrupulous  anxiety 
of  a  criminal  caught  in  the  act.  This  is  a  description  of  the 
relation  between  the  sexes  in  a  decaying  race  whose  vital- 
ity has  become  exhausted  by  the  natural  decline  which  is 
a  consequence  of  age  or  by  unfavorable  conditions  of 
existence,  or  else  by  the  operation  of  injudicious  and 
injurious  laws. 

If  my  assertion  is  conceded  to  be  true  that  the  form 
of  the  relations  existing  between  the  sexes  in  a  given  peo- 
ple is  a  measure  of  its  vital  energies,  and  if  we  apply  this 
measure  to  the  civilized  peoples  of  Europe,  we  are  obliged  to 
draw  the  most  alarming  conclusions  from  what  we  see.  The 
falseness  of  the  economic,  social  and  political  conditions 
of  our  civilization  has  also  poisoned  the  intercourse  be- 
tween the  sexes — all  the  natural  instincts  which  should  en- 
sure the  perpetuation  and  perfection  of  the  race,  are  dis- 
torted and  diverted  into  wrong  channels,  and  the  future 
generations  of  that  part  of  humanity  which  is  intellectually 
most  highly  developed,  are  sacrificed  without  hesitation 
to  the  prevailing  selfishness  and  hypocrisy.  Mankind  at 
all  times,  has  appreciated  the  fact,  instinctively  at  first, 
then  with  its  reasoning  faculties,  that  there  was  nothing  more 
important  to  it  than  its  own  perpetuation.  All  sentiments 
and  actions  which  had  any  bearing  whatever  upon  this 
most  prominent  interest  of  the  species,  have  from  the  very 
first  occupied  the  most  extensive  domain  in  its  world  of 
thought.  Love  is  almost  the  exclusive  theme  of  the 


THE  PERPETUATION  OF  THE  KACE  ITS  HIGHEST  INTEREST.  273 

light  literature  of  all  ages  and  of  all  peoples,  and  it  is 
certainly  the  only  one  that  has  the  power  to  fascinate 
permanently  the  mass  of  readers  or  hearers.  The  result 
of  love,  the  union  of  the  youth  and  the  maiden  into  a 
fruitful  pair,  has  always  been  surrounded  by  more  cere- 
monies and  festivities,  preparations  and  formalities  than 
any  other  act  of  man's  life;  in  primitive  times  by  cus- 
toms and  etiquette,  and  later,  by  written  laws  confirming 
these  formalities.  Even  the  formal  presentation  of  manly 
weapons  to  the  youths  was  a  ceremony  of  but  secondary 
rank,  although  in  barbaric  tribes,  living  in  a  condition  of 
incessant  attack  and  defence,  this  act  was  considered  of 
the  greatest  importance.  By  these  formalities,  which 
make  a  marriage  a  matter  of  so  much  ceremony,  the  com- 
munity has  always  kept  control  of  the  relations  between 
the  sexes,  and  the  solemnity  with  which  it  treats  the 
union  of  a  loving  couple,  ought  to  arouse  in  them  the 
consciousness  that  their  embraces  are  no  mere  private 
affairs,  like  a  dinner,  a  hunting  expedition  or  an  evening 
spent  in  singing  and  dancing,  but  matters  of  great  public 
importance  and  significance,  affecting  the  welfare  of 
the  whole  community  and  aiding  to  determine  its  future. 
In  order  to  prevent  as  much  as  possible  the  degradation 
of  love  into  a  mere  pastime  and  to  proclaim  most  emphat- 
ically its  sublime  purpose,  the  preservation  of  the  race, 
society  from  its  very  beginnings,  has  only  recognized  as 
honorable  and  distinguished  by  its  respect  those  relations 
between  man  and  woman  whose  earnestness  has  stood  the 
test  of  a  public  ceremony.  It  disapproves  of  those  which 
have  refused  to  submit  to  this  formality  and  punishes 
them  with  avoidance  or  material  penalties.  In  our  civilization 
as  well  as  in  its  state  of  primitive  development,  the  impulse 
for  procreation  must  summon  society  to  be  a  witness  to 
its  gratification  and  place  itself  under  its  protection,  or 


274  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIB. 

else  it  sinks  into  a  contemptible  and  criminal  vice. 
Today  as  much  as  ever  before,  marriage  is  the  only 
kind  of  union  between  man  and  woman  countenanced 
by  the  community.  But  what  have  the  lies  of  our  civili- 
zation made  out  .of  marriage?  It  has  become  a  mutual 
agreement  in  which  there  is  no  more  room  for  love,-  than 
in  the  partnership  contract  of  two  capitalists  entering 
upon  some  new  business  enterprise  together.  The  pretext 
for  marriage  is  still  as  ever,  the  preservation  of  the  species, 
its  theoretical  presupposition  is  still  the  mutual  attraction 
of  two  individuals  of  opposite  sexes,  but  in  reality,  a 
marriage  is  contracted  not  in  the  interests  of  the  future 
generation,  but  solely  with  regard  to  the  personal  interests 
of  the  contracting  parties.  The  consecration  of  morality 
and  anthropological  justification  are  utterly  lacking  in 
the  modern  marriage,  especially  among  the  so-called 
better  classes.  Marriage  ought  to  be  the  victory  of  altru- 
ism, but  it  is  the  victory  of  egotism.  The  contracting 
parties  do  not  wish  nor  expect  to  live  in  and  for  each  other 
in  the  new  relationship,  but  to  carry  on  a  more  comforta- 
ble and  irresponsible  single  existence.  They  get  married 
to  have  their  combined  fortunes  make  life  more  agreeable, 
to  provide  themselves  with  a  pleasanter  home,  to  secure 
and  maintain  social  prestige,  to  satisfy  their  vanity  and 
to  enter  upon  the  privileges  and  enjoyments  which  society 
refuses  to  the  single  woman  and  concedes  to  the  married 
one.  In  contracting  a  marriage  everything  is  thjought  of: 
the  drawing-room  and  the  kitchen,  the  promenade  and  the 
watering  place,  the  dancing-hall  and  the  dining-room,  one 
thing  only  is  forgotten,  the  most  essential  of  all:  the 
sleeping-room,  that  sacred  place,  from  whence  the  future 
of  the  family,  of  the  race  and  of  humanity,  should  dawn 
upon  the  world.  Decay  and  ruin  must  be  the  destiny  of 
those  peoples  in  whose  marriages  the  selfishness  of  the 


WHY  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLES  CAN  DISPENSE  WITH  LOVE.   275 

contracting  parties  celebrates  its  victory,  while  the  child  is 
an  unwished-for,  in  the  most  favorable  case,  an  indifferent 
accident,  a  resulting  consequence  not  easily  to  be  avoided, 
but  always  of  secondary  importance. 

The  objection  may  be  made  that  among  peoples 
living  still  in  natural,  primitive  conditions  of  life,  the 
majority  of  marriages  are  contracted  after  the  same  fashion 
as  in  the  midst  of  our  civilization.  Among  them  also, 
affection  plays  no  role  in  the  establishment  of  a  new 
household.  In  some  tribes  the  man  marries  a  maiden 
whom  he  sees  for  the  first  time  after  the  wedding  ceremonies 
are  over.  In  others  the  would-be  bridegroom  carries  off 
the  first  woman  of  some  neighboring  tribe  that  he  meets 
and  is  able  to  capture.  When  the  bride  is  chosen,  the 
choice  has  nothing  to  do  with  love.  She  is  selected  to  be 
the  mistress  of  a  home,  because  it  is  known  in  the  tribe 
that  she  can  work  faithfully,  take  good  care  of  the  domes- 
tic animals,  spin  and  weave  well.  In  this  case  also  the 
perpetuation  of  the  tribe  is  left  to  blind  chance  or  to  ego- 
tism, and  yet  such  peoples  are  full  of  youthful  vitality  and 
their  development  far  from  suffering  from  this  condition 
of  things,  is  progressing  rapidly  and  satisfactorily.  We  can 
reply  to  this  objection  that  marriages  founded  not  on  love 
but  on  selfishness  and  social  station  do  not  have  the  same 
bad  results  among  uncivilized  peoples  as  among  the  civil- 
ized, owing  to  anthropological  causes.  There  is  but 
little  mental  or  physical  difference  between  the  individuals 
comprising  a  primitive  people.  The  tribal  type  is  shown 
in  avery  man  and  in  every  woman  alike,  and  an  individual 
type  does  not  exist  at  all  or  at  most  only  as  a  germ.  All 
the  individuals  seem  to  have  been  cast  in  the  same  mould 
and  resemble  each  other  to  a  perplexing  degree;  for 
breeding  purposes  they  all  have  about  the  same  value. 
Natural  selection  is  not  a  necessarily  preceding  condition  of 


276  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIE. 

matrimony ;  the  result  will  be  the  same,  whatever  the  mo- 
tives, that  led  to  it,  may  have  been.  Great  similarity  between 
individuals  not  only  does  away  with  the  necessity  of  love, 
but  also  with  its  possibility.  The  impulse  of  procreation 
arouses  in  the  individual  a  general  wish  for  the  companion- 
ship of  an  individual  of  the  other  sex,  but  it  does  not  in- 
dividualize, in  a  word  it  does  not  rise  to  its  highest  form, 
the  concrete  love  for  a  certain  individual  and  for  none 
other.  One  entire  sex  has  a  general  attraction  for  the 
other  entire  sex,  it  is  quite  immaterial  to  the  man  as  well 
as  to  the  woman,  which  man  or  which  woman  becomes 
their  companion.  When  by  chance  some  individual  does 
arise  who  differs  from  the  uniformity  of  the  tribe  and  is 
distinguished  above  all  the  other  members  by  surpassing 
mental  or  physical  qualities,  the  difference  is  appreciated 
with  an  intensity  of  which  we  can  form  no  conception,  as 
we  are  so  accustomed  to  see  striking  individual  differences 
in  the  people  around  us.  The  great  zoological  law  of 
sexual  selection  then  begins  to  operate  with  the  power  of 
an  elementary  force  of  nature,  and  the  desire  for  the  pos- 
session of  this  superior  individual  becomes  a  fearful, 
furious  passion  leading  to  the  most  extreme  actions.  The 
case  is  quite  otherwise  in  a  civilized  people,  whose  indi- 
viduals all  differ  so  widely.  Among  the  uncultivated, 
that  is,  the  less  developed  lower  classes,  the  impulse  for 
propagation  is  revealed  much  more  frequently  as  a 
general  attraction  towards  the  other  sex  than  as  an  indi- 
vidualizing, discriminating  affection  for  one,  and  con- 
trary to  the  universal  sentimental  romancing  of  non-ob- 
serving poets,  violent  love  for  one  chosen  being  is  exceed- 
ingly rare  among  them.  But  among  the  upper  classes, 
whose  members  are  highly  developed,  of  innumerable 
variety  and  the  individual  types  sharply  defined,  the 
sexual  impulse  becomes  exclusive  and  discriminating;  if 


LOVE  A  CHEMICAL  PROCESS  OF  NATURE.  877 

it  were  not  so  the  offspring  would  not  be  full  of  vitality 
and  energy.  Hence,  marriage,  the  only  relationship  be- 
tween man  and  woman  countenanced  by  society  in  which 
offspring  are  produced,  should  be  the  result  of  love.  For 
love  is  the  great  regulator  of  the  life  of  the  race,  the  im- 
pelling force  which  promotes  the  perfecting  of  the  species 
and  tries  to  prevent  its  physical  decay.  Love  is  the  in- 
stinctive recognition  of  the  fact  by  one  being,  that  it  must 
be  united  with  a  certain  other  being  of  the  opposite  sex, 
so  that  its  good  qualities  may  be  increased,  its  bad  neu- 
tralized and  its  offspring  prove  at  least  no  deterioration  of 
its  type,  and  if  possible  an  improvement  upon  it.  The 
propagating  impulse  alone  is  blind,  and  it  needs  the  re- 
liable guide,  love,  to  enable  it  to  reach  its  natural  goal, 
which  is  at  the  same  time  the  perpetuation  and  improve- 
ment of  its  kind.  If  this  guide  is  lacking,  if  the  union  of 
man  and  woman  is  determined  by  chance  or  external  in- 
terests, which  have  nothing  to  do  with  its  physiological  pur- 
pose, md  not  by  mutual  attraction,  then  the  offspring  of  such 
an  ill-assorted  couple  will  be  almost  always  oad  or 
mediocre.  The  children  inherit  the  faults  of  the  parents 
which  appear  in  an  increased  form  in  them,  while  their 
good  qualities  are  modified  or  lacking  entirely.  The 
generation,  the  race  thus  produced  is  inharmonious,  dis- 
tracted within  itself  and  decaying,  doomed  to  become 
speedily  extinct.  Only  one  voice,  the  voice  of  love,  tells 
the  individual  that  nis  union  with  a  certain  other  individ- 
ual is  desirable  in  the  interests  of  the  preservation  and 
perfection  of  his  kind,  while  his  union  with  a  certain  other 
would  be  disastrous.  Goethe  employed  a  single  word  to 
express  the  essence  of  love,  which  comprehends  it  so 
wonderfully  and  defines  it  so  exhaustively  that  volumes  of 
definition  could  add  nothing  to  it;  this  word  is:  "Wahl- 
wandtschaft,"  which  has  been  translated:  "elective 


ver 


278  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIB. 

affinity."  It  is  a  term  borrowed  from  the  science  of  chemistry., 
and  shows  with  marvelous  penetration,  the  connection 
between  the  great  elementary  processes  of  nature  and  the 
process  of  love  in  man,  which  lias  been  rendered  so  myster- 
ious and  unintelligible  by  the  hysterical  ravings  of  poets 
unable  to  discern  and  comprehend  its  true  significance. 
Affinity  in  chemistry  means  that  attraction  between  the 
particles  of  two  bodies  which  causes  them  to  unite  and  blend, 
thus  forming  a  new  compound  completely  different  in  almost 
all  its  properties,  in  color,  density,  effect  upon  other  mat- 
ter, composition,  etc.,  from  the  two  ingredients  of  which 
it  is  formed.  Two  bodies  between  whom  this  affinity 
does  not  exist,  can  remain  for  ever  in  the  most  intimate 
contact  without  blending  together,  without  forming  a 
new  compound  or  producing  any  vital  process — their  com- 
bination will  never  be  more  than  a  passive  juxtaposition. 
But  if  there  is  an  affinity  between  the  particles  of  the  two 
bodies,  they  need  only  be  brought  into  contact  to  produce 
an  instantaneous  phenomenon  of  action,  spontaneous, 
beautiful  and  fruitful.  The  human  organism  is  the  scene 
of  exactly  similar  operations.  Two  individuals  exert  this 
mutual  attraction  upon  each  other,  or  they  do  not.  If 
they  stand  in  affinity  to  each  other,  they  love  each  other, 
they  rush  to  each  other  with  impetuosity  and  become  the 
source  of  new  formations.  If  there  is  not  this  affinity  be- 
tween them  they  remain  cold  and  passive,  and  their  pro- 
pinquity will  never  lead  to  an  episode  of  the  universal 
vital  processes  of  nature.  These  are  elementary  proper- 
ties inherent  in  matter,  which  we  do  not  attempt  to  ex- 
plain. Why  does  oxygen  unite  with  potassium?  Why 
will  not  nitrogen  unite  with  platinum?  Who  can  tell  us? 
And  why  does  a  man  love  this  one  woman  and  not  this 
other?  Why  does  a  woman  want  this  man  and  spurn  all 
other  men?  Evidently  because  this  attraction  and  indif- 


A  MARRIAGE  WITHOUT  LOVE  IS  PROSTITUTION.       279 

ference  are  founded  on  the  innermost  chemical  properties 
of  the   beings   in   question  and  proceed  from  the  same 
sources  as  the  organic  processes  of  life  itself.   Marriage  is 
thus  a  vessel  in  which  two  separate  bodies,  two  chemical 
individualities,  are  enclosed   together.     If  there  is  an 
affinity  between  them  the  vessel  is  full  of  life;  if  there  is 
none,  the  vessel  contains  death.     But  who  enquires  about 
the  affinity  in  a  modern  marriage?   There  are  only  two 
kinds  of  relations  between  man  and  woman:  those  which 
were  produced  by  a  natural  mutual  attraction,  and  have 
always  reproduction  as  their  aim  and  purpose,  consciously 
or  unconsciously,  and  those  in  which  this  aim  is  not  the  prin- 
cipal one,  which  are  merely  the  gratification  of  selfishness 
in  some  one  of  its  many  phases.  The  first  kind  is  justifiable 
and  moral,  the  latter  come  within  the  limits  of  prostitution, 
no  matter  how  moral  they  may  appear  to  outsiders.     The 
outcast  being  who  plies  her  trade  in  the  great  cities  r4 
night,  accosting  the  first  passer-by  whose  features  eve** 
she  can   not   discern,  prostitutes  herself;  the  low  wretch 
who  dances  attendance  upon  some  old  woman,  and  is  pai^ 
in  cash  for  his  attentions,  prostitutes  himself  —  tnere  *) 
only    one   view  possible    of    such    actions.     But  I  as«r 
wherein  lies  the  difference  between  the  man  who  is  sup- 
ported by  the  woman  who  loves  him,  and  the  man  who  is 
wooing  an  heiress  or  the  daughter  of  some  influential  man 
for  whom  he  does  not  experience  the  slightest  love,  in 
order  to  obtain  wealth  or  position  by  the  alliance?    And 
wherein  lies  the  difference  between  the  wretched  creature 
who  sells  herself  to  some  stranger  for  a  trifling  amount, 
and  the  blushing  bride  who  is  united  before  the  altar  to 
some  unloved  individual,  who  offers  her  in  return  for  her 
companionship,  social  rank  and  dresses,   ornaments  and 
servants,  or  even   merely  her  daily  bread?  The  motives 
are  the  same  in  both  cases,  the  actions  the  same;  their 


280  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIB. 

names,  according  to  truth  and  justice,  should  be  the  same. 
A  mother  may  be  respected  by  every  one  as  entitled  to 
the  highest  esteem,  she  may  consider  herself  a  model  of  ex- 
treme morality,  and  yet  when  she  introduces  some  wealthy 
suitor  to  her  daughter  and  tries  to  overcome  her  natural 
indifference  to  him  by  judicious  persuasion  and  advice, 
somewhat  after  this  fashion:  that  it  would  be  very  foolish 
to  throw  away  such  a  chance  for  a  comfortable  provision 
for  the  future,  that  it  would  be  in  the  highest  degree  im- 
prudent to  wait  for  a  second  opportunity  which  might 
never  arrive,  that  a  maiden  ought  to  think  of  practical 
things  and  get  all  the  silly  rubbish  of  romantic  love  stor- 
ies out  of  her  head — "with  a  little  hoard  of  maxims  preach- 
ing down  a  daughter's  heart," — this  model  mother  is  an  in- 
famous go-between,  no  more  and  no  less  than  the  old  hag 
who  whispers  corrupt  counsel  aito  the  ear  of  some  poor 
working  girl  in  the  park  and  is  punished  by  the  laws  when 
found  out.  The  elegant  young  bachelor,  such  a  welcome 
goiest  in  the  drawing  rooms  of  society,  hunting  for  a  fine 
match  in  the  mazes  of  the  German,  until  he  finds  some 
wealthy  heiress  to  whom  he  can  pay  his  court  with  melt- 
mg  glances  and  tenderly  modulated  tones,  who  puts  off 
his  creditors  until  the  day  after  the  wedding  and  portions 
off- his  mistress  from  his  bride's  dowry — is  not  his  degrad- 
ation as  deep  as  that  of  any  low  wretch  whom  he  would 
not  touch  without  gloves?  A  woman  who  sells  herself  to 
buy  bread  for  her  aged  mother  or  her  child,  stands  upon 
i  higher  moral  plane  than  the  blushing  maiden  who 
marries  a  money  bag,  in  order  to  gratify  her  frivolous 
appetite  for  balls  and  travel.  Of  two  men,  he  is  the  less 
deceived,  the  m^/re  logical  and  rational,  who  pays  his 
companion  of  an  hour  in  cash  each  time,  than  he  who  gets 
a  companion  for  life  by  the  marriage  cor  tract,  whose 
society  was  purchased  as  much  as  in  the  *ormer  case. 


HUNTING  FOR  DOWRIES  AND  MARRIAGE  SETTLEMENTS.   281 

Every  alliance  between  man  and  woman  in  which  either 
one  is  influenced  by  the  substantial  or  selfish  advantages 
to  be  gained  by  it,  is  prostitution,  no  matter  whether  it 
has  been  sanctioned  by  the  justice  of  the  peace  or  the 
parson,  or  not. 

But  this  is  the  character  of  almost  all  marriages;  the 
rare,  exceptional  cases  in  which  a  man  and  a  woman  are 
united  in  a  legitimate  way  without  any  other  reason  or 
desire  than  to  belong  to  each  other  in  love,  are  condemned 
by  reasonable  persons  and  young  people  are  cautioned  not 
to  i.uitate  them.  Poor  girls  and  those  only  moderately 
provided  for,  are  carefully  warned  by  their  parents  to 
stifle  the  dangerous  natural  impulses  of  their  hearts,  and 
to  gauge  the  sweetness  of  their  smile  by  the  figure  of  the 
bachelor's  income.  When  this  artificial  coquetry  is  not 
sufficient  alone  to  catch  a  husband  whose  reliability  in 
regard  to  his  income  can  be  depended  upon,  the  mother 
and  aunts  rally  to  the  rescue  and  back  up  the  innocent 
child's  efforts  with  crafty  mano3uvers.  The  case  is  different 
where  rich  girls  are  concerned.  They  are  not  the  hunters, 
but  the  game.  A  certain  class  of  men  are  trained  and 
drilled  for  the  chase  of  a  dowry,  and  go  regularly  to  work 
according  to  certain  fixed  rules.  They  wear  trousers  and 
vests  of  immaculate  cut,  cravats  of  a  carefully  selected 
color  and  shape,  and  carry  an  eye  glass  screwed  into 
one  eye.  Hours  are  spent  in  arranging  their  hair  and 
moustache,  a  delicate  perfume  surrounds  them;  they  dance 
superbly,  are  thoroughly  at  home  in  all  society  games, 
rhapsodize  <-.n  sporting  matters  and  are  thoroughly  versed 
in  theatrical  gossip.  At  a  later  stage  of  the  game  they 
distribute  bouquets  and  bonbons,  and  love-letters  in  prose 
and  verse  are  evolved.  By  these  means  the  golden  phea- 
sant is  soon  brought  down,  and  the  simple  creature  who 
imagined  that  she  had  been  playing  a  role  in  a  lyric 


282  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIE. 

drama,  discovers  too  late,  that  she  has  only  been  em- 
ployed as  a  factor  in  an  arithmetical  calculation.  When 
both  parties  to  the  marriage  possess  about  the  same 
amount  of  fortune  and  position  in  life,  these  are  counted, 
compared  and  measured  beforehand.  In  such  a  case  no 
trouble  is  taken  to  disguise  or  conceal  in  the  slightest,  the 
true  motives  of  the  marriage  and  the  real  comprehension 
of  its  significance.  Two  fortunes,  two  positions,  two  in- 
.luences,  are  united.  The  man  wants  a  wife  to  get  his 
dinner  for  him  or  sew  on  his  buttons,  or  else  to  wear  a 
silk  dress  with  elegance  and  preside  at  the  head  of  his 
table;  the  woman  wants  a  husband  who  will  work  for  her, 
or  else  make  it  possible  for  her  to  go  to  balls  and  recep- 
tions and  receive  society  in  her  own  home.  This  open 
acknowledgment  of  the  motives  is  not  allowed  in  mar- 
riages between  unequal  fortunes  and  positions.  Then  one 
or  other  of  the  contracting  parties  M...SL  lie.  The  poor 
girl  pretends  affection  for  the  money- nag,  tne  wooer  makes 
a  false  display  of  love  for  the  gold  fish  he  has  caught. 
Nature  and  truth  can  celebrate  at  least  one  melancholy 
victory :  that  the  corrupt  egotism  which  has  diverted  mar- 
riage from  its  natural  goal,  recognizes  and  accepts  its  real 
moral  and  physiological  significance,  by  assuming  in  its 
wooing  the  mask  of  love. 

What  is  the  fate  of  the  men  and  women  who  have 
become  united  in  matrimony  after  this  fashion?  The 
"degenerates,"  the  morally  decayed  offspring  of  parents 
who  were  married  in  obedience  to  the  command  of 
material  interests,  conceived  and  born  without  love, 
brought  up  without  tenderness,  they  become  finally  en- 
tirely incapable  of  love  and  can  grow  old  without  ever 
having  perceived,  even  for  one  moment,  the  impoverish- 
ment of  their  inner  life.  The  husband  cultivates  his  palate 
and  stor^ach,  he  becomes  a  connoisseur  in  wines  and 


FATE  OP  THOSE  MARRIED  WITHOUT  LOVE.  2SP 

cigars,  his  liberality  wins  him  a  favorable  recognition  in 
the  demi-monde,  his  name  is  spoken  with  respect  in  the 
clubs,  he  dies  rich  in  civil  and  social  honors  and  if  «,„.,.,•«• 
would  have  this  inscription  carved  upon  his  tomb-stone! 

'The  only  love  of  my  life  was— I,  myself!"  The  wife 
invents  crazy  fashions,  strives  to  surpass  all  her  equals  in 
insane  extravagance,  dreams  day  and  night  of  dress, 
jewels,  furniture  and  carriages,  intrigues,  lies,  slanders 
other  women,  destroys  the  heart- happiness  of  others,  im- 
pelled by  a  fiendish  envy,  and  is  able,  if  the  means  at  her 
command  correspond  with  her  inclinations,  to  leave  a 
broad  swath  of  desolation  and  misery  behind  her,  like  an 
army  of  locusts  or  a  pestilence.  Both  man  and  wife 
vegetate  in  a  mephitic  intellectual  sphere,  without  light 
or  inspiration.  Their  lives  are  without  a  single  ideal. 
Their  natures,  deprived  of  every  organ  of  flight,  without 
elasticity  and  aspiration,  crawl  flat  in  the  mire.  They 
are  germs  of  corruption  spreading  disease  wherever  they 
go,  destroying  society  and  dying  in  the  putrefaction  they 
have  produced.  "Degenerates"  are  found  principally 
among  the  upper  classes.  They  are  at  once  the  results 
and  the  causes  of  the  egotistical  organization  of  society. 
In  society  marriages  are  not  entered  into  on  account  of 
love,  but  to  obtain  rank  and  wealth.  Wealth  and  rank 
are  thus  maintained,  but  their  owners  decay.  This  is  in 
obedience  to  the  self -regulating  and  restricting  tendencies 
of  every  living  organism,  hence  of  humanity  at  large.  The 
suppression  of  love,  the  enlargement  of  egotism  which  are 
the  prevailing  tendencies  of  the  upper  strata  of  society, 
would  lead  to  the  speedy  decay  of  the  race  if  they  became 
universal.  The  impulse  for  self-preservation  in  mankind 
thus  leads  to  the  inevitable  decay  of  families  founded  on 
loveless  and  selfish  unions.  The  universally  conceded 
rapid  decay  of  aristocratic  houses  has  hardly  any  other 


284  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIB. 

cause  than  this.  In  addition  to  the  marriages  of  this  kind 
contracted  by  "degenerates",  there  are  also  those  entered 
into  by  sound,  normal  beings,  capable  of  love,  who  yet 
have  married  without  love  from  a  lack  of  understanding, 
from  heedlessnessor  from  a  cowardly  dread  of  the  dangers 
of  the  struggle  for  existence  in  the  midst  of  a  society 
organized  and  governed  by  sheer  egotism.  It  is  remarkable 
that  such  marriages,  contracted  in  direct  opposition  to 
nature  and  reason,  are  called  marriages  of  reason.  The 
sin  they  have  thus  committed  against  that  fundamental 
law,  sexual  selection,  is  avenged  upon  them  sooner  or 
later,  and  the  later,  the  more  severely.  The  impulse  to 
love  can  not  be  eradicated  from  their  hearts  and  is  con- 
tinually seeking  an  outlet  through  the  unyielding  walls 
of  legal  and  social  conventionalism,  with  incessant  and 
most  painful  exertions.  It  maj  ^ippen  that  such  an  in- 
dividual never  meets  one  with  whom  it  has  an  affinity, 
throughout  its  entire  life  career;  in  this  case  the  marriage 
remains  undisturbed  and  the  relations  between  man  and 
wife  united  from  prudential  motives,  formally  correct. 
But  their  existence  is  unfinished  and  unsatisfactory,  they 
always  have  the  tormenting  sensation  of  a  sorrowful  unrest 
and  expectation,  they  are  always  hoping  for  something  yet 
to  come,  that  will  awaken  them  from  the  stupor  of  their 
empty  lives.  The  whole  being  is  felt  to  be  fragmentary 
and  they  long  for  the  missing  portion,  but  never  find  it 
even  in  the  most  brilliant  gratifications  of  their  vanity  or 
self-interest,  because  love  alone  could  supply  it. 

The  lives  of  such  persons  as  well  as  of  the  "de- 
generates" miss  the  consecration  of  the  ideal;  but,  more 
subjectively  unhappy  than  the  latter,  they  have  a  con- 
tinual consciousness  of  what  is  lacking.  They  are  not 
blind,  but  seeing  men  deprived  of  the  light.  This  is  the 
case  if  destiny  does  not  bring  them  in  contact  with  some 


LOVE  VEE8U8  CONJUGAL  DUTIES.  285 

being  with  whom  they  have  an  affinity.  But  if  they  meet 
with  such  an  one  the  catastrophe  is  inevitable.  The  con- 
flict between  the  conjugal  duties  and  the  elementary 
striving  for  union  with  the  individual  for  whom  they  feel 
an  affinity,  is  constant  and  wearing,  the  substance,  the 
love,  rebels  against  the  form,  the  married  state,  in  which 
it  is  confined.  Either  the  substance  is  crushed  or  the 
form  is  destroyed.  A  third  solution  is  also  possible,  and 
as  it  is  the  most  ignoble,  it  is  the  most  frequently  employed: 
the  sides  of  the  form  which  are  visible  to  all  eyes  remain 
undisturbed,  but  in  the  rear  a  narrow  crack  is  made 
through  which  the  substance  can  find  its  way  out.  To  ex- 
press it  more  practically:  the  loving  party  in  the  loveless 
marriage  either  dissolves  the  marriage  by  force,  or 
struggles  with  and  subdues  his  love  by  the  sacrifice  of  his 
life's  happiness,  or  else  deceives  his  spouse  and  breaks  his 
conjugal  vows  in  secret.  Common  natures  seize  at  once 
upon  this  last  me^ins  of  escape,  but  natures  of  true 
nobility  have  to  struggle  through  and  bear  with  the 
tragedy  of  rebellion  against  the  prejudices  of  society  and 
the  fatal  contest  between  passion  and  duty,  with  all  their 
bitter  intensity.  If  society  were  founded  upon  the  laws 
governing  the  species,  such  loveless  marriages  would  be 
impossible  and  such  catastrophes  inconceivable.  If  it 
were  organized  upon  the  basis  of  organic  laws  and  soli- 
darity, it  would  in  such  a  struggle  take  sides  with  the 
lovers  and  cry  to  them:  "You  love,  therefore  be  united." 
But  society,  officially,  is  the  enemy  of  the  species  and  is 
only  ruled  by  egotism;  it  therefore  takes  sides  with  the 
conjugal  duties  and  says  to  the  contestants:  "Renounce 
each  other."  But  as,  in  spite  of  its  unnatural  conditions, 
it  has  retained  the  knowledge  that  this  is  impossible,  that 
it  is  as  easy  to  renounce  life  itself  as  love,  and  that  such  a 
revolting  command  would  not  be  obeyed  any  more  than 


THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIE. 

an  order  to  commit  suicide,  it  adds  in  a  whisper  and  with 
a  sly  wink:  "or  at  least  do  not  give  any  cause  for  scan- 
dal." Thus  love  gets  its  rights  at  last,  but  only  from  those 
who  are  willing  to  accept  the  hypocrisy  of  society,  so  that, 
instead  of  elevating  and  ennobling  the  character,  it  be- 
comes under  such  conditions  a  cause  of  its  deterioration, 
as  it  requires  constant  lying,  perjury  and  dissimulation. 
A  curious  classification  of  individualities  is  produced  by  its 
operation  in  wedded  life;  the  best  and  finest  characters, 
exactly  those  which  have  the  most  value  for  the  race  as 
breeding  material,  are  the  very  ones  who  scorn  to  accept 
any  immoral  and  vulgar  compromises,  and  as  they  will 
not  break  the  solemn  vows  they  pledged  at  the  altar  and 
have  perhaps  neither  the  decision  nor  means  to  openly 
and  legally  dissolve  the  marriage  contract,  the  love  that 
has  entered  into  their  lives  too  late  is  the  cause  of  their 
ruin,  and  thus  is  of  no  benefit  to  the  race;  the  every-day 
natures,  on  the  other  hand,  whose  perpetuation  is  of  slight 
importance  to  the  race,  avoid  the  pains  of  martyrdom  and 
satisfy  their  hearts  at  the  expense  of  their  ethical  con- 
science. 

The  conventional  marriage.,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  as 
contracted  among  the  civilized  peoples  of  Europe,  is 
hence,  a  deeply  immoral  relation,  fraught  with  the  most 
fatal  results  for  the  future  of  society.  It  compels  those 
who  enter  into  it,  to  find  themselves  involved  sooner  01 
later,  in  a  conflict  between  forsworn  vows  and  indestructible 
love,  and  gives  them  only  two  alternatives,  vulgarity  01 
ruin.  Instead  of  its  being  a  source  for  our  kind  to  renew 
its  youth,  it  is  the  means  of  its  slow  suioide. 


II. 

The  fact  that  matrimony,  originally  intended  to  bt 
the  single  permanent  form  of  love  between  man  and  wo 


POSTERITY  SAGRIPICED  TO  THE  LIVING  GENERATION.   287 

man,  has  completely  lost  its  scope  and  purport,  that  it  is 
usually  entered  into  without  regard  to  the  affinity  be- 
tween the  parties,  that  young  men  and  maidens  are  formally 
trained  to  consider  love  as  something  distinct  from  mar- 
riage, owing  to  the  examples  they  see  around  them  in 
every-day  life,  and  still  more  to  the  light  literature  of  all 
languages,  that  in  fact  they  learn  to  look  upon  them  as 
antagonistic  in  most  cases,  and  when  their  hands  are  united 
in  public,  make  the  reservation  in  the  secret  depths  of  their 
souls,  consciously  or  only  indistinctly  apprehended,  that  the 
inclinations  of  their  hearts  are  not  to  be  influenced  by  this 
formality — the  economic  organization  of  our  civilization 
is  to  blame  for  these  facts.  This  organization  has  selfishness 
as  its  foundation;  it  recognizes  only  the  single  being  and 
not  the  species,  its  attention  is  confined  strictly  to  the  in- 
dividual and  it  neglects  in  every  respect  the  race;  it 
allows  a  piratical  system  of  economy  to  exist  which  sacri- 
fices the  future  to  the  present,  and  among  all  its  numerous 
watchmen  and  guards,  attorneys  and  bailiffs,  there  is 
not  a  single  being  whose  duty  it  is  to  look  after  the 
interests  of  posterity.  What  matters  it  to  a  society 
organized  in  this  way,  that  the  reproduction  of  the  species 
occurs  under  the  most  unf?  /orable  conditions?  The  living 
generation  has  only  itseK  to  think  of.  If  it  can  complete 
its  existence  in  the  utmost  possible  comfort,  it  has  fulfilled 
its  duty  to  itself  completely,  and  it  is  not  aware  of  any 
other  duty.  The  succeeding  generation  in  its  turn  may  look 
after  itself  alone,  and  if  it  is  mentally  and  physically 
impoverished  by  thefaultof  the  parents,  so  much  the  worse 
for  k.  Are  the  children  born  in  a  marriage  without  love, 
pitiable  creatures?  What  does  it  matter,  if  only  the 
wedded  couple  obtained  the  substantial  advantages  they 
sought  by  the  marriage?  Are  the  children  of  love  with- 
out marriage  usually  sacrificed  to  the  mothers'  dread 


288  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIE. 

of  social  ostracism,  and  thus  become  martyrs  to  the 
ruling  prejudices  of  society?  What  harm  is  there  in  this 
lact  if  their  parents  found  the  happiness  they  sought  in 
the  forbidden  relations?  Humanity  is  disappearing  from 
the  horizon  of  man,  the  sentiment  of  solidarity,  of  fellow- 
ship with  his  kind,  which  is  one  of  the  primitive  instincts 
of  the  higher  forms  of  animal  life,  is  dying  out,  the  suffering 
of  his  neighbor  no  longer  disturbs  man's  pleasure,  arid 
even  the  thought  that  mankind  might  cease  to  exist  with 
the  present  generation,  would  not  cause  society  to  change 
a  mode  of  living  in  which  the  individual  can  be  tempor- 
arily comfortable.  Hence  the  impulse  towards  procrea- 
tion has  become  a  means  of  selfish  advancement,  and  as 
it  is  the  most  powerful  of  all  the  impulses  of  man's  being, 
he  can  speculate  upon  it  with  impunity.  Thus  we  see 
that  men  and  women  try  to  make  the  sacred  act,  on  which 
depend  the  preservation  and  development  of  the  human 
race,  a  source  of  personal,  pecuniary  profit.  Why  should 
we  blame  the  man  or  woman  of  our  civilization  because 
he  or  she  looks  upon  marriage  as  a  charitable  institution, 
a  "Sheltering  Arms,"  and  when  a  proposal  is  made  looks 
around  to  see  if  any  one  bids  higher.  They  see  that  the 
world  takes  the  amount  of  the  fortune  as  the  measure  of 
the  worth  of  the  individual;  they  see  the  rich  faring 
sumptuously  and  Lazarus  lying  in  the  dust  at  the  gate, 
today  as  well  as  in  the  Biblical  times;  they  know  the  crush 
and  the  weariness  of  the  struggle  for  existence  and  the 
difficulty  of  winning  a  victory  in  it;  they  know  that  they 
can  only  count  upon  their  individual  selves  and  strength, 
and  if  they  fall  that  they  need  expect  no  acceptable  help 
from  the  community.  What  wonder  then  that  they  look 
upon  every  act  of  their  life,  marriage  included,  solely  and 
exclusively  from  the  standpoint  of  their  personal,  palpable 
advantage  in  the  struggle  ior  existence?  Why  should 


WOMAN  THE  VICTIM  OF  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIE.      28* 

they  allow  love  to  influence  them  in  the  selection  of  a 
husband  or  wife?  Because  humanity  would  be  better  ofl 
by  it?  What  do  they  care  for  humanity?  What  has  hu- 
manity  done  for  them?  Does  it  satisfy  their  appetite  when 
they  are  hungry?  Does  it  give  them  work  when  they  can 
find  no  work  to  do?  Does  it  feed  their  children  when  they 
are  clamoring  for  bread?  And  if  they  die  will  it  support 
their  widows,  their  orphans?  No.  And  aw  it  does  not  fulfill 
any  of  these  duties  towards  them,  they  have  only  thdii- 
individual  selves  to  consider,  and  look  upon  love  as  an 
agreeable  pastime  and  upon  marriage  as  a  means  of  in- 
creasing their  share  of  the  goods  of  this  world. 

The  result  of  these  ideas  is  a  speedy  degeneration  of 
the  civilized  part  of  humanity,  bat  their  direct,  immediate 
victim  is  woman.  Man  does  not  suffer  so  very  much  by 
such  a  condition  of  affairs.  If  he  does  not  have  the  ability 
or  the  courage  to  assume  the  responsibility  of  founding  a 
family  in  the  midst  of  a  society  which  is  hostile  and 
piratical,  instead  of  being  kind  and  encouraging  as  would 
be  more  natural,  he  remains  unmarried  but  without  re- 
nouncing the  full  gratification  of  all  his  instincts. 
Bachelorhood  is  far  from  being  synonymous  with  celib- 
acy. The  bachelor  has  the  tacit  permission  of  society 
to  procure  the  pleasures  of  woman's  companionship  when 
and  where  he  can,  it  calls  his  selfish  enjoyments  successes, 
and  surrounds  them  with  a  kind  of  romantic  halo,  so  that 
the  amiable  vice  of  a  Don  Juan  arouses  a  sentiment  that 
is  composed  of  envy,  sympathy  and  secret  admiration.  If 
he  marries  without  love,  to  procure  certain  substantial 
advantages,  he  is  allowed  by  custom  to  seek  right  and 
left  the  pleasures  which  he  does  not  find  in  the  society  of 
his  wife,  or  if  this  is  not  exactly  allowed,  it  is  yet  not  con- 
sidered a  crime  which  should  exclude  him  from  intercourse 
with  respectable  people.  Quite  the  reverse  is  the  case  where 


290  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIB. 

^ 

woman  is  concerned.  The  woman  of  our  civilization  is 
taught  to  consider  matrimony  as  her  only  life  career  and 
marriage  her  only  destiny.  Only  by  marriage  does  she 
attain  to  the  gratification  of  all  her  physiological  wants^ 
great  and  small.  She  must  marry  in  order  to  exercise 
her  natural  rights  as  a  complete  and  mature  individual,  in 
order  to  receive  the  consecration  of  motherhood  or  simply 
in  order  to  be  protected  from  poverty  and  distress.  This 
last  consideration  does  riot  influence  heiresses,  but  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  most  of  them  realize  the  immorality 
of  a  marriage  without  love  and  that  many  of  them  carry 
their  desire  to  marry  from  mutual  affection  to  such  an  ex- 
tent that  it  is  almost  a  mania,  leading  them  to  consider  all 
their  suitors  as  fortune-hunters,  yet  they,  most  of  all,  are 
the  victims  of  this  fatal  perversion  of  truth,  which  has 
substituted  sheer  egotism  for  love  in  the  contraction  of  a 
marriage.  There  are  too  many  men  sufficiently  degraded 
to  consider  a  life-interest  in  a  wife's  fortune  as  a  posses- 
sion to  be  desired  above  all  others.  They  will  make  every 
effort  to  win  the  wealthy  heiress,  not  because  they  love 
her  but  because  they  want  her  property.  They  humor 
all  her  whims;  if  she  yearns  for  love,  they  feign  it  with 
the  more  intensity  the  less  reality  there  is  in  their  protest- 
ations. The  probabilities  are  that  the  heiress,  young  and 
inexperienced,  bestows  her  hand  upon  the  most  unworthy 
suitor  of  all  those  with  whom  she  is  surrounded,  because 
he  is  usually  the  most  skillful  and  unswerving  dissembler. 
She  discovers  too  late  that  she  also,  in  spite  of  her  material 
independence,  has  married  a  man  who  has  no  affinity  for 
her  but  only  for  her  fortune,  and  that  she  must  either  re- 
nounce the  thought  of  love,  or  must  seek  for  it  outside  of 
her  home,  exposing  herself  to  dangers  of  all  kinds  and  the 
contempt  of  all  moral  censors.  But  heiresses  are  only  a 
small  minority  in  the  world,  all  other  women  are  com- 


THE  LOT  OF  THE  UNMARRIED  WOMAN.  29] 

pelled  by  the  present  organization  of  society  to  look  upon 
marriage  as  the  only  possible  refuge  from  disgrace  and 
poverty,  and  even  from  starvation.  What  is  the  lot  of  the 
unmarried  woman?  Her  familiar  appellation,  old  maid, 
contains  a  scornful  sting.  The  solidarity  of  the  family 
does  not  extend  usually  into  the  maturer  years  of  the 
children.  When  the  parents  die,  the  brothers  and  sisters 
separate,  each  one  wishes  to  tread  alone  the  path  of  life, 
and  the  constant  companionship  of  the  rest  becomes  a 
burden.  The  girl  who  is  too  sensitive  to  wish  to  be  a 
hindrance  to  either  brother  or  sister,  especially  if  they  are 
married,  finds  that  she  is  alone  in  the  world,  far  more 
solitary  than  the  Bedouin  in  the  desert.  Shall  she  found 
a  home  of  her  own?  It  would  be  an  inhospitable  and 
dreary  place,  for  no  masculine  friend  could  sit  down  by 
her  fire-side  without  arousing  the  gossip  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, feminine  friendships  are  rare  and  beyond  a  certain 
point  unnatural,  and  least  of  all  would  she  introduce  a 
sister  in  misfortune  into  her  home  to  add  to  its  melancholy 
and  bitterness.  Some  wise  being  is  ready  with  the  ad- 
vice: she  need  not  concern  herself  about  the  gossip  of 
other  women,  but  let  her  assemble  the  congenial  friends 
around  her,  whom  she  may  meet.  But  with  what  right 
does  this  strong  and  independent  character  advise  a 
gentle,  timid  girl  to  renounce  for  her  life  long,  the  satis- 
faction she  obtains  from  the  respect  and  appreciation  of 
her  equals,  a  satisfaction  which  appeals  with  effect  even 
to  the  very  strongest  among  us.  The  reputation  is  a  very 
substantial  possession  and  the  opinion  of  one's  social 
equals  plays  the  most  important  part  in  the  inner  and 
outer  life  of  the  individual.  And  shall  the  solitary 
maiden  throw  away  her  title  to  this  possession?  She  would 
then  pass  her  life  among  strangers,  more  dependent  than 
if  wedded,  more  exposed  to  calumny  ifian  the  married 


292  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIB. 

woman,  the  preservation  of  her  reputation  her  incessant 
and  tormenting  care,  for  society  requires  it  untarnished, 
although  it  does  not  offer  her  the  natural  prize  for  it,  the 
husband.  The  bachelor  can  go  into  restaurants  and 
saloons,  pass  his  leisure  hours  in  bis  clubs,  which  are  be- 
coming more  and  more  a  substitute  for  family  life,  he  can 
travel  alone,  go  to  walk  alone,  and  has  a  hundred  ways  of 
deluding  himself  into  oblivion  of  the  coldness  and  barren- 
ness of  his  home,  unblessed  by  the  love  of  wife  and  child. 
All  these  solaces  are  denied  to  the  single  woman  if  she 
wishes  to  keep  her  reputation  clear;  she  is  condemned  to 
a  perpetual  solitude  in  her  sorrow  over  her  wasted  life. 
If  she  owns  property  she  can  only  increase  it  with  diffi- 
culty, it  is  much  more  liable  to  be  diminished  or  lost  en- 
tirely, for  she  is  far  less  competent  than  man  to  conduct 
business  affairs,  that  is,  to  protect  her  possessions  against 
the  sharks  swarming  around  them,  owing  to  her  training 
and  the  customs  of  society.  But  if  she  has  no  property 
the  picture  grows  indistinguishable  from  the  hopeless 
darkness  that  settles  down  upon  it.  Only  a  few  and  un- 
remunerative  means  of  earning  a  livelihood  are  accessible 
to  woman.  The  uneducated  girl  of  the  lower  classes  goes 
out  to  service  and  thus  supports  herself,  but  never  learns 
the  meaning  of  independence  and  liberty,  while  her 
character  is  crippled  by  constant  humiliations.  Slow 
starvation  is  the  result  of  woman's^tndependent  efforts,  and 
working  by  the  day,  she  receives 'on  an  average  one  half  as 
much  as  a  man,  although  her  natural  wants  are  about  the 
same.  The  educated  girl  of  the  upper  classes  becomes  a 
teacher;  in  most  cases  she  enters  upon  the  slave's  life  of  a 
governess;  in  some  countriesa  limited  number  of  subordinate 
official  positions  or  clerkships  are  open  to  her,  but  none  of 
them  allow  a  cultivated  and  intelligent  woman  to  practice 
her  talents  and  inclinations,  to  satisfy  her  inner  life,  which 


WOMAN'S  HUNGER  AND  HEROISM.  293 

alone  makes  poverty  bearable;  and  those  who  can  get 
these  positions  are  the  fortunate  ones.  The  rest  are 
poverty-stricken,  wretched,  a  burden  to  themselves  and 
others,  oppressed  by  the  consciousness  of  their  aimless 
and  useless  life,  unable  to  obtain  for  themselves  any 
pleasures  in  their  youth,  their  bread  from  day  to  day,  or  a 
provision  for  thdr  old  age.  And  with  all  this,  the  girl  who 
vegetates  in  such  a  terrible  solitude  must  have  superhuman 
principles.  We  require  this  sad,  morbid,  starving,  shiver- 
ing girl  to  be  a  heroine!  Prostitution  stands  near,  waiting 
for  her,  enticing  her.  She  can  not  take  a  step  in  her  soli- 
tary and  joyless  life,  without  being  beset  by  temptation 
in  a  thousand  guises.  Man  who  avoids  assuming  the 
responsibility  of  providing  for  ner  for  life,  does  not  hesi- 
tate to  demand  her  love  as  a  present,  which  requires  nc 
return  from  him. 

His  sensual  selfishness  pursues  her  without  intermission 
and  is  the  more  dangerous,  as  her  most  powerful  instincts 
are  his  secret  allies.  She  must  not  only  voluntarily  con* 
tinue  her  life  of  solitude  and  wretchedness,  not  only 
struggle  to  escape-from  her  strong  and  determined  antag- 
onist, man,  who  is  spurred  on  by  his  passions,  but  she  must 
subdue  her  own  inclinations  and  put  down  the  rebellion 
of  her  normal,  natural  instincts  against  the  lies  and  hy- 
pocrisy of  society .  To  emerge  unharmed  from  such  a  struggle 
requires  a  heroism  of  which  hardly  one  man  in  a  thousand 
would  be  capable.  And  the  reward  of  this  heroism? 
There  is  none.  The  old  maid  who  has  lived  the  life  of  a 
saint  amid  these  manifold  temptations,  finds  no  recompense, 
no  assurance  in  her  heart  of  hearts  that  she  has  been  obey- 
ing a  law  of  nature  by  her  bitter,  arduous  life  of  depriva- 
tions; on  the  contrary,  the  older  she  grows,  the  louder 
her  heart  questions:  "why  did  I  struggle?  Has  ray  vic- 
tory benefited  anyone?  Is  society  with  its  hard,  selfish 


294  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIE. 

maxims,  worthy  of  the  sacrifice  I  offered  upon  its  altar, 
my  life's  happiness?  Would  it  not  have  been  a  thousand 
times  better  for  me  if  I  had  yielded?" 

When  the  average  girl  shudders  at  the  thought  of 
such  a  fate  and  marries  the  first  man  who  enters  upon  her 
horizon  on  matrimonial  thoughts  intent,  without  too  much 
scrutiny  of  affections  and  affinities  —  is  she  not  right? 
There  are  a  hundred  chances  to  one  that  the  lot  of  the 
married  woman  is  more  peaceful  and  pleasant  than  that 
of  the  old  maid.  But  the  lie  acted  by  the  bride  when  she 
marries  without  love,  does  not  go  unavenged.  She  is 
neither  a  faithful  wife  nor  a  conscientious  housekeeper. 
In  her  unsatisfied  longing  for  love  she  listens  continually 
to  the  voice  of  her  heart,  accepts  its  lightest  and  most  in- 
distinct whisper  as  the  hoped-for  announcement  of  pas- 
sion, and  throws  herself  into  the  arms  of  the  first  man  who 
has  been  able  to  fill  her  empty  mind  for  a  moment.  She 
soon  recognizes  her  mistake  and  continues  her  search  for 
the  right  one,  sometimes  closing  her  career  by  falling 
over  the  precipice  into  social  ignominy.  In  a  more  favor- 
able case  she  may  be  merely  coquettish,  without  going  so 
far  as  to  break  her  marriage  vows  materially  or  platoni- 
cally.  Her  appreciation  of  the  incompleteness  of  her  life 
and  the  necessity  of  finding  the  missing  part,  the  man 
destined  by  nature  t  >  supplement  her  and  round  her  exist- 
ence into  completeness,  these  impulses  may  reveal  them- 
selves as  semi-unconscious  coquetry,  which  impels  her  to 
dress  elegantly  and  attend  the  balls  and  evening  enter- 
tainments where  she  meets  strange  men,  to  test  her  powers 
of  attraction  upon  them  and  to  experience  theirs  in  return 
She  is  entirely  wrapped  up  in  herself,  cares  solely  for  her 
own  interests  and  demands  that  life  should  only  offer  her 
personal  pleasures.  Her  egotism  makes  it  impossible  for 
her  husband  to  come  within  her  sphere  of  vision,  much  less 


WHY  MEN  DO  NOT  MARRY.  295 

for  her  to  have  any  consideration  for  him  or  to  enter  into  his 
life.  The  household  is  indifferent  to  her  except  in  so  far  as  it 
exists  for  her.  She  spends  money  without  regard  for  the 
exertions  of  her  husband.  She  only  married  him  so  that 
she  could  live  free  from  care,  in  comfort  or  luxury,  and 
yet  it  is  so  hideously  human  to  punish  him  because  he 
was  so  ill  advised  as  to  take  her  to  wife  without  first  being 
convinced  of  her  love.  In  this  way  a  wretched  chain  of 
events  is  formed,  of  which  every  link  is  a  calamity  and 
vexation.  The  egotistical  organization  of  society  makes 
the  struggle  for  existence  unnaturally  and  unnecessar- 
ily difficult  for  the  individual,  consequently  man  does  not 
seek  love  but  substantial  benefits  in  matrimony,  and  he 
pursues  the  heiress.  The  poor  girl,  for  fear  she  may  be- 
come an  old  maid,  gives  chase  to  the  first  eligible  man 
she  v- -eets,  who  is  able  to  support  her;  soon  after  the  mar- 
riage she  is  discovered  to  be  a  costly  article  of  luxury,  of  no 
possible  value  to  the  possessor  but  only  a  source  of  un- 
limiied  outlay.  Many  men  able  to  support  a  wife  and 
make  her  happy,  are  frightened  by  the  spectacle  of  such 
wedded  life  and  are  deterred  by  it  from  getting  married 
themselves.  This  condemns  a  corresponding  number  of 
girls  to  spinsterhood,  their  prospect  of  procuring  a  hus- 
band decreases,  while  their  determination  to- capture  one 
increases  in  proportion  and  their  longing  to  make  sure 
of  him,  leads  them  to  suppress  still  more  the  prompt- 
ings of 'their  hearts.  The  consequences  of  marriages  con- 
tracted under  such  circumstances  have  a  tendency  to  deter 
an  increasing  number  of  matrimonial  candidates  from  f. 
lowing  their  example.  Man  and  woman  become  enemies,  try- 
ing to  steal  a  march  upon  and  plunder  each  other.  No  one  is 
satisfied,  no  one  is  happy,  and  the  catholic  confessor  and 
the  proprietors  of  the  great  dry  goods  establishment*  are 
the  only  ones  who  have  reason  to  be  pleased  at  this 


296  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIE. 

dition  of  things,  as  it  brings  them  crowds  of  customers. 

III. 

But  if  the  economic  organization  of  the  world  is 
the  principal  cause  of  the  falseness  of  the  institution  of 
matrimony,  it  is  however,  not  the  only  one.  A  large 
share  of  the  blame  for  the  opposition  between  substance 
and  form,  between  love  and  marriage,  and  for  the  frequent 
tragical  conflicts  between  natural  sentiments  and  con- 
ventional constraints,  is  due  to  the  prevailing  conception 
of  morality,  which  is  a  consequence  of  Christianity.  This 
morality  considers  the  act  of  generation  an  odious 
crime,  it  covers  its  face-before  it  as  before  an  abomination, 
which  at  the  same  time  does  not  preclude  a  stolen  glance, 
and  it  lays  upon  everything  which  has  the  slightest  con- 
nection with  the  sexual  life,  or  even  calls  it  to  remem- 
brance, the  ban  of  a  timorous  silence.  This  is  monstrous, 
it  is  unprecedented.  This  system  of  morality  could  not 
last  an  hour  if  it  were  not  that  in  private  all  human  beings, 
all  without  exception,  set  it  aside  as  tranquilly  as  if  it  did 
not  exist.  It  has  not  the  smallest  natural  foundation  and 
therefore  not  the  faintest  shadow  of  justification.  Why 
should  an  organic  function,  the  most  important  of  all  by 
far,  because  its  purpose  is  the  perpetuation  of  the  species, 
why  should  it  be  less  decent  than  others  whose  purpose  is 
only  the  preservation  of  the  individual?  Why  should 
eating  and  sleeping  be  legitimate  actions  which  are  openly 
practiced,  spoken  of  and  acknowledged,  while  generation 
is  a  sin  and  a  disgrace  which  can  not  be  sufficiently  con- 
cealed and  denied?  Is  not  puberty  the  crowning  point  of 
the  development  of  the  individual,  and  its  own  repro- 
duction its  highest  triumph  and  most  glorious  manifesto,- 
tion?  All  living  beings,  plants  as  well  fcs  animals,  conaidei 


MODBBN  AND  AffCIBlfT  MORALITY.  397 

procreation  the  most  sublime  act  of  their  vital  energies, 
and  summon  nature  with  pride  to  be  a  witness  of  it,  the 
flowers  with  their  display  of  brilliant  colors  and  their 
fragrance,  the  birds,  "warbling  sweet  the  nuptial  lay,"  the 
fire-fly  with  its  brilliant  ray  of  light,  the  mammiferous 
animals  by  the  roars  and  growls  of  then*  wooings  and  the 
fury  of  their  rival  combats — man  alone  is  ashamed  of  his 
most  powerful  instinct  and  conceals  it  like  a  crime. 

To  be  sure  man  has  not  been  of  this  opinion  in  all 
ages;  Tartuffe  has  not  been  always  his  guide  in  ethical 
matters.  I  do  not  refer  to  man  in  a  state  of  nature  but  in. 
a  condition  of  high  civilization.  A  civilization,  abundant, 
intellectually  and  morally  profound,  whose  ideality  far 
surpassed  that  of  our  modern  civilization — the  civilization 
of  India  and  Greece — considered  the  relations  between 
the  sexes  from  a  natural  and  unprejudiced  point  of  view; 
it  held  the  human  form  divine  in  equal  estimation,  with- 
out seeing  anything  more  indecent  in  one  organ  than  in 
another,  it  had  no  bashfulness  in  regard  to  the  nude,  con- 
sequently could  behold  it  with  a  pure  eye,  without  any 
corrupt  secret  thoughts.  It  saw  in  the  union  of  two  in- 
dividuals of  opposite  sexes,  the  sacred  design  of  repro- 
duction alone,  which  consecrated  this  act  as  necessary  anJ 
sublime,  thus  preventing  the  possibility  of  unworthy 
suggestions  and  trains  of  thought  in  a  normal  and  ripened 
intellect.  The  Indian  as  well  as  the  Greek  "civilization 
had  not  obscured  and  perverted  this  elementary  impulse  in 
man  like  our  own  civilization,  and  therefore  was  still  p.-m- 
trated  with  the  natural  admiration  and  gratitude  for  the 
process  which  is  the  source  of  all  life  throughout  the  uni- 
verse, the  process  of  reproduction.  It  paid  honors  to  the 
organs  which  are  involved  in  this  vital  action,  it  placed 
.^presentations  of  them  as  symbols  of  fruitfulness  in  the 
tempi**-  oublic  places  and  dwellings,  invented  special 


298  THE  MATRIMONIAL,  LIB. 

deities  to  personify  propagation  and  paid  them  a  worship 
which  did  not  degenerate  into  gross  and  purposeless  sen- 
suality until  the  later  periods  of  the  moral  decay.  Surrounded 
by  symbols  which  excited  their  curiosity,  the  young  could 
not  be  brought  up  in  that  unnatural  ignorance  which  is 
one  of  the  chief  aims  of  modern  training;  as  the  reason 
was  permitted  to  comprehend  the  phenomena  of  the  sex- 
ual life  from  the  moment  it  began  to  take  an  interest  in 
them,  the  imagination  was  not  set  morbidly  to  work,  thus 
finding  its  way  into  wrong  and  dangerous  paths;  that 
which  lay  open  to  the  eyes  of  all  did  not  have  the  charm 
of  secret  and  forbidden  fruit,  so  that  the  unprejudiced, 
enlightened  youth  of  this  ancient  civilization  was  more 
morally  pure  and  less  infected  by  premature  desires  than 
the  young  of  our  own  flay,  who  in  spite  of  the  anxious  pains 
taken  to  preserve  it,  can  not  be  raised  in  that  ignorance 
considered  so  salutary,  but  obtain  their  knowledge  secretly 
from  the  most  polluted  sources,  poisoning  the  mind  and 
deranging  the  nervous  system. 

The  radical  change  which  has  taken  place  in  our 
conceptions  of  morality,  is  the  consequ  3nce  of  the  influ- 
ence gained  by  the  ideas  of  Christianity  over  the  mind  of 
civilized  mankind.  The  fundamental  doctrines  of  Christ- 
ianity as  they  are  proclaimed  in  the  earliest  writings, 
contradict  each  other  in  the  most  astonishing  manner; 
they  are  based  upon  two  opposing  assertions  which  would 
have  debarred  each  other  absolutely,  if  Christianity  had 
been  founded  by  a  logical  thinker,  with  a  clear  under- 
standing. On  one  side  it  preaches:  Love  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself,  love  even  thine  enemies;  on  the  other,  it  declares 
that  the  end  of  the  world  is  at  hand,  that  the  lusts  of  the 
flesh  are  the  most  deadly  sinb,  abstinence  the  most  pleas- 
ing to  God  of  all  virtues,  and  absolute  chastity  the  most 
desirable  condition.  When  Christianity  preached  the 


THE  CHRISTIAN  DOCTRINE  OP  CELIBACY.  299 

love  of  one's  neighbor  it  raised  the  natural  instinct  of 
man's  fellowship  with  his  kind  into  a  religious  command- 
ment and  promoted  the  perpetuation  and  prosperity  of  the 
human  race;  but  when,  at  the  same  time,  it  condemned 
sexual  love,  it  destroyed  its  own  work,  it  sentenced  man- 
kind to  annihilation  and  placed  itself  in  opposition  to 
nature  with  an  hostility  which  seems  born  of  the  devil,  to 
use  one  of  its  own  expressions.  The  doctrine  of  love  for 
one's  neighbor  conquered  humanity,  because  it  appealed 
to  its  most  powerful  instinct,  the  impulse  for  the  preser- 
vation of  the  race.  The  doctrine  of  celibacy  on  the  con- 
trary, would  have  prevented  the  spread  of  the  new  religion 
•  completely,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  fact  that  it  appeared  at 
a  time  when  society  had  become  thoroughly  corrupt,  when 
licentious  egotism  alone  was  ruling  supreme  and  the  rela- 
tions between  the  sexes,  diverted  from  their  purpose  of 
reproducing  the  species,  had  become  degraded  into  a 
source  of  selfish  enjoyment  alone,  polluted  by  all  manner 
of  crimes,  so  that  it  seemed  an  abomination  to  the  con- 
science of  the  good.  When  this  state  of  things  luvaine 
altered,  when  Christianity  was  no  longer  the  reaction  from 
the  moral  corruption  of  ancient  Rome,  it  ceased  to  con 
sider  it  necessary  to  protest  against  the  excess  of  immoral- 
ity by  an  excess  of  purity,  and  the  dismal,  inhuman  doc- 
trine of  celibacy  was  forced  into  the  background.  The 
church  ceased  to  exact  it  from  all  but  a  few  of  its  chil- 
dren, the  priests  and  the  nuns,  and  even  made  the  con- 
cession to  nature  of  elevating  marriage  into  a  sacrament. 
The  vows  of  celibacy  taken  by  the  monks  and  nuns  did 
not  prevent  however,  the  greatest  excesses  within  the 
walls  of  the  cloisters,  and  during  the  Middle  Ages,  when 
Christianity  exercised  its  highest  authority  upon  mankind, 
immorality  was  almost  as  bad  as  during  the  tiitm  of  the 
decline  of  Rome.  Ever  since  the  beginning  of  Religion, 


300  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIB. 

the  doctrine  of  celibacy  has  never  been  literally  followed 
except  by  those  individuals  who  were  suffering  from 
religious  mania,  a  disease  which  is  almost  always  co-ex- 
istent with  disturbances  or  irregularities  of  the  sexual 
system,  and  which  like  them  is  a  manifestation  of  a  mor- 
bid state,  proceeding  from  the  same  pathological  modifi- 
cations in  the  condition  of  the  brain.  But  Christianity 
never  completely  aban  loned  this  doctrine,  the  church 
canonized  certain  married  couples  as  saints,  because  they 
had  never  touched  each  other,  while  together  during  a  long 
married  life  sexual  intercourse  remained  theoretically  a  sin 
in  its  eyes,  even  if  it  was  allowed  in  practice,  and  in  the 
course  of  centuries  its  constant  pressure  upon  civilized 
mankind  has  forced  it  to  its  present  standpoint,  that  is,  to 
the  conviction  that  sexual  love  is  a  disgrace,  continence 
a  moral  duty  and  the  gratificatior  of  the  chief  impulse  of 
every  living  being,  a  sin  deserving  the  severest  penalties. 
Man  has  the  same  instincts  in  Christianism  as  in  paganism; 
he  desires  and  obtains  woman's  favor  the  same;  but  he 
has  not  the  pure  and  ennobling  sentiment  that  he  is  en- 
gaged in  a  laudable  action,  but  is  haunted  by  the  idea 
that  he  is  treading  forbidden  paths;  it  seems  to  him  as  if 
he  were  committing  a  crime  that  must  be  concealed,  he 
feels  degraded  by  the  compulsion  to  deception  and  hypoc- 
risy, and  condemned  to  a  perpetual  lie  against  himself, 
the  beloved  object  and  mankind  in  general,  by  the  neces- 
sity for  leaving  unavowed  the  natural  aim  of  his  affectioiz_ 
the  possession  of  the  beloved  being.  Christianity  will 
not  concede  that  love  is  legitimate;  there  is  therefore  no 
room  for  love  in  the  institutions  permeated  by  it.  Mar- 
riage is  one  of  these  institutions,  its  character  is  influenced 
by  Christian  morality.  From  the  theological  point  of 
view,  it  has  nothing  in  common  with  the  love  between  man 
and  woman.  A  marriage  is  not  entered  into  to  allow  them  to 


CHURCH  AND  SOCIETY  DO  NOT  RECOGNIZE  LOVE.     301 

belong  to  each  other,  but  to  fulfill  a  sacrament.  They 
would  please  God  still  more  if  they  did  not  marry  at  all. 
The  priest  who  is  uniting  a  couple  in  matrimony  before 
the  altar,  asks  the  woman  whether  she  is  ready  to  follow 
the  man  as  her  husband,  and  obey  him  as  her  lord  and 
master.  Whether  she  loves  him,  this  question  is  not  asked 
by  the  priest,  for  he  does  not  recognize  the  validity  of 
such  a  sentiment.  According  to  his  ideas  the  union 
which  he  has  just  sealed  with  his  ceremonies,  has  its  sole 
foundation  in  the  solemn  vows  and  covenants  made 
before  the  altar,  and  not  at  all  in  any  human,  organic  im- 
pulse which  brings  two  beings  together  and  unites  them 
as  one  individual  soul. 

All  the  relations  between  society  and  the  sexes  are 
shaped  by  this  Christian  doctrinal  opinion  of  the  sinful- 
ness  of  all  carnal,  that  is,  of  all  natural  and  normal  love. 
Matrimony  is  sacred;  its  command  of  fidelity  must  not  be 
transgressed,  even  when  it  starves  the  hearts  of  the 
wedded  couple.  The  wife  may  have  married  without 
love,  she  may  learn  to  know  a  man  later  who  arouses  her 
passionate  love — society  will  not  concede  the  possibility 
of  such  an  occurrence.  What,  the  wife  loves  another? 
That  can  not  be!  Such  a  thing  as  love  is  not  recognized! 
The  wife  is  married ;  that  is  all  she  can  claim.  She  has 
her  husband  to  whom  she  is  bound  by  her  vows  of  con- 
jugal duty;  outside  of  this  duty  the  world  has  nothing 
for  her.  If  she  violates  it,  she  becomes  an  adulteress  and 
falls  into  the  hands  of  the  police,  beneath  the  contempt  of 
all  right-minded  persons.  Society  concedes  to  the  hus- 
band the  right  to  kill  his  faithless  wife,  and  it  commissions 
the  judge  to  sentence  her  to  imprisonment  as  a  warning 
and  an  example,  if  the  husband  has  been  too  forbearing. 
A  girl  has  fallen  in  love  with  a  man,  she  obeys  nature's 
commands  without  waiting  for  the  permission  of  the  priest 


302  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIF 

or  the  Dribbling  of  the  justice.  Alas  for  the  guilty 
wretch!  She  is  banished  henceforth  from  respectable, 
decent  society.  Even  the  innocent  child,  the  result  of  her 
error,  bears  a  stain  from  which  it  can  not  cleanse  itself  its 
whole  life  long.  Theft  is  also  forbidden  by  the  community; 
but  the  judge  has  sometimes  compassion  upon  the  thief  if 
he  stole  bread  when  he  was  starving,  and  lets  him  go  un- 
punished. This  is  a  concession  by  society  of  the  fact  that 
one's  hunger  at  times  may  be  stronger  than  one's  respect 
of  the  law.  But  it  makes  no  concessions  to  the  wife  who 
has  loved  notwithstanding  her  marriage  vows,  or  to  the 
girl  who  has  loved  without  any  marriage  vows.  It  accepts 
no  excuse  for  any  violation  of  the  laws  with  which  it  has 
regulated  the  intercourse  of  the  sexes.  It  will  not  per- 
ceive that  love  as  well  as  hunger  is  a  sufficient  cause  to 
break  the  bonds  of  the  written  law.  Are  we  not  obliged 
to  believe  that  this  law,  this  system  of  morality,  is  the  in- 
vention of  scorified  and  calcinated  old  men  or  of  eunuchs? 
Is  it  possible  that  society  has  been  governed  by  these 
views  of  morality  for  centuries,  a  society  in  which  the  old 
men  and  eunuchs  are  in  the  minority,  while  it  always  con- 
tains many  young  men  of  twenty  four  and  maidens  of 
twenty?  Governed — ah,  there  it  is  —  society  is  not 
governed  by  these  ideas!  It  has  contrived  a  way  to  recon- 
cile the  inhuman  laws  and  heartless  customs  with  human 
nature,  by  pretending  great  respect  and  decorum  before 
their  faces,  but  cutting  all  sorts  of  capers  behind  their 
backs.  Its  non-recognition  of  love  is  a  fraud.  It  takes 
off  its  hat  in  the  presence  of  the  judge  who  sentences  the 
adulteress  to  prison,  or  of  the  severe  mistress  who  sends 
away  her  servant  who  has  been  betrayed;  but  it  claps  ap- 
plause to  the  poet  who  sings  of  love  without  even  men- 
tioning marriage,  until  its  very  palms  ache.  Every  one 
in  public  assents  unctuously  to  the  proposition  that  it  is  a 


THE  INSTITUTION  OP  MATRIMONY.  3Q3 

sin  to  obey  the  promptings  of  the  heart,  but  in  secret  he 
listens  to  and  obeys  them  with  enthusiasm,  and  does  not 
consider  himself  wicked  in  doing  so.  The  theory  of 
Christian  morality  only  exists  because  no  one  applies  it  in 
practice.  The  bonds  of  an  enormous  conspiracy  unite  all 
civilized  humanity,  making  every  human  being  a  member 
of  this  immense  secret  society  —  on  the  street  they  bow 
reverently  to  all  the  theological  doctrines  they  may  meet, 
but  at  home,  with  closed  doors,  they  sacrifice  to  nature 
and  wreak  their  vengeance  upon  any  one  who  divulges 
the  secrets  of  their  Eleusinian  mysteries;  they  express 
their  abhorrence  of  the  universal  hypocrisy,  and  even  have 
the  audacity  to  acknowledge  in  public  places  the  gods 
they  have  installed  as  presiding  deities  and  worship  in 
private. 

In  order  to  form  an  unprejudiced  judgment  of  the  in- 
stitution of  matrimony,  we  must  first  accomplish  the  diffi- 
cult task  of  shaking  off  the  prejudices  in  which  we  have 
grown  up,  and  emancipate  ourselves  completely  from  the 
habit  of  the  Christian  conception  of  morality  which  has 
become  so  intertwined  with  all  our  thought.  In  opposition 
to  the  theological  view,  we  must  look  upon  man 
as  a  natural  being  and  consider  him  in  connection  with  the 
rest  of  nature;  if  we  wish  to  test  the  justness  of  any  human 
institution  we  must  enquire  whether  it  corresponds  with 
man's  constitution,  his  natural,  fundamental  impulses  and 
the  highest  interests  of  the  race.  If  we  apply  this  standard 
to  the  institution  of  matrimony,  it  is  very  doubtful  whether 
it  will  stand  the  test,  and  it  seems  extremely  difficult  to 
prove  that  it  is  a  natural  condition  of  man,  and  not  a 
human  institution.  We  have  "seen  that  the  economic  or- 
ganization of  society  leads  to  the  contracting  of  marriages 
from  material  interests  and  that  the  morality  of  Chris- 
tianity refuses  to  recognize  the  validity  of  love.  But 


304  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIE. 

now  the  laat  and  most  painful  question  of  all  obtrudes 
itself  upon  us:  is  matrimony  a  lie  simply  because 
it  is  usually  entered  into  for  mercenary  motives  and  not  for 
the  possession  of  a  certain  individual,  and  is  it  a  constraint 
merely  because  the  morality  of  Christianity  will  not  concede 
the  fact  of  the  existence  of  such  a  thing  as  love,  in  conjunction 
with  the  fetters  imposed  by  the  priest?  Is  not  matrimony 
rather,  as  it  exists  today  in  our  civilization,  an  altogether 
unnatural  form  of  the  relations  between  the  two  sexes, 
and  in  its  present  phase  of  development,  that  is,  as  a  per- 
petual alliance  for  the  whole  life,  would  it  not  be  a  lie 
even  if  marriages  were  never  contracted  on  any  other 
grounds  than  those  of  love,  and  all  its  natural  rights  were 
conceded  to  passion  ? 

We  are  so  far  removed  from  a  condition  of  nature  in 
regard  to  the  relations  between  the  sexes,  that  it  is  ex- 
tremely difficult  now  to  distinguish  with  certainty  between 
what  is  physiological  and  necessary  in  this  matter,  and 
what  has  been  so  distorted,  perverted  and  artificially 
added  to,  during  centuries  of  inherited  transmission,  that 
it  has  come  at  last  to  have  the  appearance  of  nature.  But 
a  careful,  critical  analysis  of  the  inmost  promptings  of  the 
human  heart,  added  to  the  deductions  drawn  from  ob- 
servations of  the  life  of  the  higher  animals,  leads  an  ad- 
herent of  the  present  institution  to  very  discouraging  con- 
clusions. Marriage,  as  it  has  developed  historically  with 
our  civilization,  is  based  principally  and  solely  upon  the 
recognition  of  monogamy.  But  it  appears  that  monogamy 
is  not  a  natural  condition  of  mankind,  hence  there  is  a  funda- 
mental contradiction  between  the  individual  impulse  and 
the  social  institution,  the  cause  of  constantly  renewed  con- 
flicts between  sentiment  and  customs,  in  many  cases 
bringing  the  substance  into  perpetual  opposition  to  the 
form  and  making  the  state  of  matrimony  a  lie.  Scarcely 


18  MONOGAMY  NATURAL?  305 

any  reform  is  practicable  that  would  bring  the  outward 
visible  sign,  the  monogamic  matrimonial  relations  of  a 
wedded  pair,  into,perfect  harmony  under  all  circumstances, 
with  their  inward  attraction  and  affection  for  each  other! 
The  institution  of  matrimony  is  founded  altogether 
upon  the  supposition  or  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  the 
interests  of  the  perpetuating  and  perfecting  of  the  race 
require  a  certain  supervision  by  the  community  of  the 
impulse  of  procreation,  as  I  have  attempted  to  prove 
above.  But  the  fact  that  this  institution  has  assumed  the 
form  of  an  union  between  two  parties  to  last  as  long  as 
they  both  shall  live,  this  fact  is  no  outcome  of  the  interests 
of  the  species,  it  is  not  a  vital  condition  of  the  kind,  con- 
sequently is  not  produced  by  the  impulse  for  its  preserva- 
tion, but  it  is  a  direct  result  of  the  economic  organization  of 
society  and  therefore  probably  as  transitory  as  this  organi- 
zation. The  conviction  that  matrimony  must  assume  the 
form  of  monogamy,  a  conviction  perhaps  only  semi-con- 
scious, but  still  distinct  enough  to  be  formulated  in  laws  and 
customs,  was  produced  probably  by  this  train  of  reasoning1, 
in  a  society  which  has  no  fellowship  in  the  production,  distri- 
bution and  consumption  of  wealth,  that  is,  in  a  society  with- 
out any  economic  solidarity,  in  which  every  one  toils  and 
cares  for  himself  alone  and  sees  with  unconcern  his  neigh- 
bor perish  by  his  side,  the  children  would  starve  if  the 
parents  did  not  bring  them  up.  The  mother  can  not  carry 
alone  the  burden  of  the  children's  suppdrt,  because  in  this 
egotistical  society  man  will  misuse  his  superior  strength  to 
crowd  and  push  woman,  as  she  is  the  weaker,  out  of  all  the 
light  and  more  remunerative  positions  for  earning  a  liveli- 
hood,tha  t  is,  all  for  which  she  is  fitted,  to  such  an  extent  that 
she  can  hardly  support  herself  by  her  own  toil,  to  say  nothing 
of  supporting  her  children.  The  father  must  be  compelled 
therefore,  to  aid  the  mother  in  carrying  this  burden.  But 


306  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIB. 

this  compulsion  can  only  be  exercised  practically  in  one 
way:  by  forging  a  chain  that  will  bind  the  man  indissol- 
ubly  to  the  woman  whom  he  wishes  to  make  a  mother. 
This  chain  is  the  marriage  for  life.  And  to  make  it  more 
easy  to  be  determined  which  father  is  responsible  for 
which  child,  to  obviate  any  possible  danger  of  imposing 
the  duty  of  a  child's  support  upon  the  wrong  father,  no 
man  is  allowed  to  have  children  except  by  one  woman, 
and  no  woman  save  by  one  man.  This  is  the  single  mar- 
riage or  monogamy.  And  now  the  relations  are  simple 
and  summary.  You  wish  to  possess  a  certain  woman? 
All  right:  you  must  swear  to  maintain  her  and  the  child- 
ren proceeding  from  the  union,  throughout  your  entire 
life.  Do  you  become  tired  of  the  woman  after  a  while?  So 
much  the  worse  for  you.  You  have  her  now  and  you 
must  keep  her.  You  find  that  you  made  a  mistake  in 
your  selection,  that  you  deceived  yourself  when  you 
believed  that  you  were  in  love.  You  should  have  exam- 
ined your  own  sentiments  more  closely,  have  considered 
the  matter  more  ripely.  It  is  too  late  now  to  have  this 
excuse  accepted.  You  are  in  love  with  another?  That  is 
no  concern  of  ours.  You  must  still  carry  the  burden  of 
your  wife  and  children  and  we,  society,  will  not  allow 
you  to  shift  it  upon  our  shoulders. 

The  instinct  of  self-preservation  of  the  race  never 
ceases  to  act,  as  long  as  it  possesses  any  vital  energies. 
The  only  way  the%  in  which  the  race  can  ensure  the  life  of 
the  women  and  children  in  an  economic  organization 
founded  solely  upon  egotism  and  individualism,  that  is, 
ensure  its  own  perpetuation,  is  by  a  life-long  single  mar- 
riage. Our  economic  institutions  are  necessarily  followed 
by  our  institution  of  matrimony.  In  reality  marriage  has 
come  to  be  a  means  of  gratifying  the  selfishness  of  the  par- 
ents, as  it  is  not  contracted  from  love,  nor  according  to  the 


PURPOSE  OF  MONOGAMY  301 

«tws  oi  natural  selection,  norin  the  interestsof  the  offspring ; 
while  theoretically  it  is  an  institution  dictated  by  the 
interest  of  the  preservation  of  the  race,— although  it  is 
true,  a  falsely  comprehended  interest— created  not  for 
the  benefit  of  the  parents,  but  of  the  children.  Theoret- 
ically the  adult  generation  is  sacrificed  to  the  unde- 
veloped or  unborn,  the  stomachs  of  the  little  ones  are 
provided  for  at  the  expense  of  the  hearts  of  their  parents— 
inexorably  in  those  countries  lying  still  under  the  direct 
influence  of  the  Christian  theological  views  of  the  world, 
rather  more  indulgently  in  those  in  which  the  enlighten- 
ment of  more  natural  and  human  conceptions  has  been 
diffused.  Catholicism  which,  as  we  have  seen,  consider^ 
love  to  be  unauthorized  and  a  sin,  will  not  allow  a  dissolution 
of  the  marriage  under  any  circumstances;  it  will  not  con 
cede  that  two  persons  may  have  been  mistaken  in  each 
other,  or  if  they  have  been  mistaken,  that  their  life's  hap- 
piness requires  a  separation.  The  peoples  who  are  eman- 
cipated from  Catholicism,  make  the  concession  to  love. 
that  it  exists,  that  it  has  rights,  that  it  can  even  make  its 
appearance  outside  of  wedlock;  but  they  make  the  COM 
cession  reluctantly  and  only  partially;  they  allow  the 
separation  to  take  place  only  under  difficulties,  they  pursue 
the  divorced  pair  with  invidious  prejudices,  and  carry  their 
heartlessness  so  far,  that  they  forbid  a  marriage  with  the 
person  for  love  of  whom  the  divorce  has  been  obtained, 
who  has  been  loved  before  the  legal  separation  of  the 
wedded  pair  took  place— a  prohibition  whose  stupidity 
and  barbarity  are  really  frightful. 

This  is  immaculately  consistent  from  the  standpoint 
of  the  self-seeking  economic  organization  of  society,  but 
from  that  of  physiology  and  psychology,  on  the  contrary, 
we  see  in  it  a  cause  for  the  gravest  reflection.  The  marriage 
Is  contracted  for  life.  Let  us  suppose  the  most  favorable 


308  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIE. 

case:  the  wedded  pair  love  each  other  truly.  Will  this 
love  last  as  long  as  life?  Can  it  last  so  long?  Are  the 
husband  and  wife  justified  in  swearing  fidelity  unto  death? 
Are  they  not  committing  a  foolhardy  or  inconsiderate  act 
when  they  pledge  themselves  for  the  immutability  of 
their  transient  sentiments?  The  poets,  who  seem  to  have 
been  entrusted  with  the  task  of  almost  hopelessly  con- 
fusing and  mystifying  this  matter,  do  not  hesitate  an  in- 
stant with  the  reply  to  my  question.  They  are  firmly 
convinced  that  true  love  lasts  for  aye.  if  love  ends,  it  is 
not  love,  they  say.  Hm,  that  is  very  easily  said,  but  how 
about  the  truth  of  it?  Every  one  who  has  observed  life 
with  his  eyes  open,  can  give  the  poets  a  hundred  examples 
of  love  that  commenced  very  passionately  and  yet  cooled 
off  very  rapidly  and  very  thoroughly.  If  the  poets  say 
that  love  is  not  love  which  fades  away  in  time,  we  must 
ask  them  how  we  are  to  distinguish  between  real  love  and 
the  spurious  article,  as  the  latter  at  the  moment  of  its 
conception  and  also,  during  its  brief  blossoming-time  is  so 
deceptively  like  the  former,  arousing  the  same  sentiments, 
impelling  to  the  same  actions,  with  the  same  accompani- 
ment of  excitement  and  agitation,  ecstacy  and  despair, 
.tenderness  and  jealousy  as  the  former?  Certainly  there 
have  been  cases  in  which  love  only  ceased  with  life.  A 
cool  and  impartial  analyst  would  perhaps  find,  even  in 
these  cases  that  the  perpetuity  of  love  could  be  ascribed 
to  favorable  circumstances,  to  the  power  of  habit,  the  acci- 
dental absence  of  any  disturbances  or  temptations,  in 
short,  to  influences  entirely  independent  of  the  two  in- 
dividuals, fully  as  much  at  least,  as  to  the  quality  of  their 
sentiment.  We  can  not  deny  either  the  existence  of  such 
cases.  In  them  life-long  single  matrimony  is  a  true, 
natural  and  authorized  condition.  In  them  form  and 
substance  are  one,  and  the  outward,  visible  bond  never 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  AFTER  THE  FIFTH  ACT.  303 

Ceases  to  be  the  expression  of  the  inward,  spiritual  union. 
But  if  such  cases  do  exist  without  any  doubt,  they  are, 
even  according  to  the  poets'  own  confessions,  exceedingly 
rare.  In  what  way  ought  those  persons  to  consider  matri- 
mony who  believed  that  they  loved  sincerely  at  a  certain 
moment  but  find  after  months  or  years  of  reflection,  or 
else  awake  suddenly  to  the  consciousness  upon  meeting 
a  certain  individual,  that  their  love  was  a  mistake?  Ought 
they  to  hasten  and  unite  themselves  for  life?  They  soon 
cease  to  love  each  other,  and  then  the  yoke  of  matrimony 
is  as  unbearable  a  burden  as  if  it  had  been  assumed  with- 
out love  in  the  first  place.  Or  ought  they  to  wait  before 
marrying  until  they  become  convinced  that  their  love  will 
last  till  death?  This  would  be  somewhat  difficult;  for  as 
the  true  nature  of  the  sentiment  can  only  be  recognized 
afterwards,  the  lovers  would  have  to  wait  until  their  hour 
of  death  before  they  could  say  with  a  clear  conscience: 
"Our  love  was  in  truth  the  genuine  love,  it  lasted  as  long 
as  life,  we  can  now  with  good  courage  be — buried  to- 
gether, with  no  fear  that  we  will  ever  grow  weary  of  each 
otner."  If  such  a  severe  examination  and  such  over- 
whelming conviction  were  required  as  indispensable  con- 
ditions to  matrimony,  humanity  would  see  no  more  be- 
trothed lovers. 

It  is  well  that  Romeo  and  Juliet  died  young.  If  the 
tragedy  had  not  been  concluded  with  the  fifth  act,  I  am 
not  sure  but  what  we  would  not  have  heard  of  quarrels 
between  the  charming  young  couple.  I  am  saJly  afraid 
that  he  would  have  taken  a  mistress  after  a  few  im.iitlis 
and  that  she  would  have  consoled  herself  with  some 
Veronese  nobleman  for  her  desertion.  It  would  be  too 
horrible:  a  divorce  case  as  epilogue  to  the  balcony  scene. 
I  go  still  further  and  maintain  that,  as  I  understand  the 
characters  of  Romeo  arid  Juliet,  it  would  have  b«en  cer- 


310  THK  MAllliMOMAL  LIE. 

tain  to  be  the  case,  for  they  were  both  very  young,  very 
passionate,  very  unreasonable  and  very  excitable,  and  a 
love  which  springs  into  existence  at  a  ball,  caused  by  the 
first  sight  of  a  beautiful  physical  form,  does  not  usually 
last  through  many  nights,  in  whose  morning  hours  it  be- 
lieves it  hears  "the  nightingale  and  not  the  lark."  But 
did  not  Romeo  and  Juliet  therefore,  love  each  other?  I 
should  like  to  see  any  one  who  would  venture  to  assert 
this!  And  ought  they  not  to  have  married?  That  would 
have  been  a  deadly  sin  n.it  only  from  the  standpoint  of 
the  perfecting  of  the  race,  but  also  from  that  of  romance. 
If  their  marriage  would  have  turned  out  badly,  this  fact  is 
no  proof  against  their  love,  but  it  is  a  proof  against  the 
anthropological  justification  of  marriage. 

The  truth  is,  that  among  ten  thousand  pairs  of  lovers, 
there  is  barely  one  in  which  the  man  and  woman  love  each 
other  throughout  their  entire  lives,  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
others,  not  a  single  couple  who  would  invent  the  per- 
petual, single  marriage  to  answer  to  their  own  require- 
ment, if  it  did  not  already  exist.  But  there  are  sure  to 
be  nine  thousand,  nine  hundred,  who  at  some  period  of 
their  lives  experienced  a  strong  desire  to  unite  themselves 
with  a  certain  individual,  were  happy  if  able  to  gratify  this 
desire,  suffered  bitterly  if  it  remained  unfulfilled,  and  not- 
withstanding feeling,  the  sincerity  of  the  original,  after  a  lon- 
ger or  shorter  period,  developed  until  theyca  neto  have  en- 
tirely different,  often  diametrically  opposite  sentiments  for 
the  object  of  their  former  passionate  affection.  Have 
these  couples  the  right  to  get  married?  Undoubtedly. 
Their  union  must  be  promoted  in  the  interests  of  the  race. 
But  will  a  life-long  single  marriage  be  compatible  per- 
manently with  their  happiness!  No  honest  observer  of  real 
life  can  reply  affirmatively  to  this  question. 

The  fact  is,  that  man  is  not  a  monogamous   animaJ 


MAX  IS  NOT  A  MONOGAMOUS  AMMAL.  31 1 

and  all  institutions  which  are  founde  1  upon  the  accepta- 
tion of  monogamy,  are  more  or  less  unnatural,  more  or 
less  of  a  constraint  to  him.  Inherited  ideas  which  have 
become  very  deeply  rooted  in  the  human  mind  in  the 
course  of  centuries  of  transmission,  prove  nothing  against 
this  biological  fact.  Let  us  listen  very  closely  to  the  stillest, 
smallest  voices  in  the  hearts  of  lovers!  Does  the  beloved' 
being  really  fill  the  heart  so  completely  that  there  is  no 
room  left  for  a  wi.ih  or  even  for  a  perception  outside  of  it, 
which  has  some  other  being  for  its  object?  I  deny  it.  If 
we  are  honest  we  must  allow  that  man  and  woman,  even 
in  the  highest  paroxysms  of  a  new-born  love,  keep  an 
obscure  corner  in  their  soul  which  is  not  illumined  by 
the  beams  of  the  concrete  pas  ion,  where  lurk  the  germs 
of  diverging  sympathies  and  desires.  "We  keep  these 
germs  concealed,  owing  perhaps  to  a  sense  of  honor 
instilled  into  us  by  our  training,  we  do  not  allow 
them  to  develope  at  once,  but  we  are  continually 
conscious  of  their  existence  and  we  feel  that  they  would 
soon  grow  to  be  large  and  strong  if  we  did  not  prevent 
their  development.  It  may  sound  very  shocking,  yet  I 
must  say  it:  we  can  even  love  several  individuals  at  the 
same  time,  with  nearly  equal  tenderness,  and  we  need  not 
lie  when  we  assure  each  one  of  our  passion.  No  matter 
how  deeply  we  may  be  in  love  with  a  certain  individual, 
we  do  not  cease  to  be  susceptible  to  the  influence  of  the 
entire  sex.  The  most  chaste  and  loving  woman  is  still  a 
part  of  the  general  feminine  half  of  humanity,  as  the 
most  honorable,  loving  man  is  still  a  part  of  the  masculine 
half;  he  as  well  as  she,  experiences  the  mutual  attraction 
of  the  opposite  sex,  and  under  somewhat  favorable  cir- 
cumstances this  general  attraction  may  become  the  start- 
ing-point of  a  new,  special  attachment  to  a  certain  indiv- 
idual, as  first  love  likewise,  is  usually  nothing  more  than 


312  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIE. 

the  collection  and  transferring  of  the  pre-existing  general 
attraction  to  the  other  sex,  to  a  certain  incarnation  of  it, 
ordinarily  the  first  with  whom  one  has  an  opportunity  to 
become  well  acquainted.  By  this  I  mean  chaste  women 
and  honorable  men,  as  I  repeat  expressly.  I  am  not 
referring  to  women  who  have  a  disposition  to  wantonness, 
nor  to  men  born  with  a  superficial,  sensual  temperament} 
whose  number  is  far  larger  than  the  conventional  moral- 
ists like  to  admit.  Unconditional  fidelity  is  not  an  attri- 
bute of  human  nature.  It  is  no  physiological  companion 
phenomenon  of  love.  That  we  exact  it,  is  an  outcome  of 
our  egotism.  The  individual  wishes  to  reign  entirely 
alone  in  the  heart  of  the  beloved,  to  fill  it  completely,  to 
see  only  his  own  reflection  in  its  mirror,  because  this 
effect  upon  another  is  his  highest  sphere  of  activity,  his 
most  powerful  out-living,  as  selfishness  or  vanity  can 
conceive  of  no  more  perfect  gratification  than  the  obser- 
vation of  such  a  phenomenon.  As  man  feels  himself  a 
complete  individual  most  profoundly  and  thoroughly, 
when  he  has  conquered  some  antagonist  in  a  free  single 
combat,  strength  pitted  against  strength,  man  against 
man,  he  thus  appreciates  his  own  individuality  most 
intensively  and  at  the  same  time  delightfully,  when  he 
knows  himself  to  be  the  complete  possessor  of  another 
individual.  To  exact  loyalty  is  thus  nothing  else  than  the 
wish  to  extend  the  limits  of  one's  own  personality  into  an- 
other and  to  rejoice  in  their  compass ;  jealousy  is  the  intense- 
ly painful  recognition  of  the  limitations  to  this  extension. 
We  can  therefore  be  jealous,  without  being  ourselves  in 
love,  as  we  can  wish  to  surpass  a  competitor  in  the  race, 
without  hating  him  personally;  in  both  cases  the  point  is 
to  become  conscious  of  ourselves  as  superior  individuals, 
thus  gratifying  our  vanity;  it  is  a  question  of  superiority, 
of  strength,  of  physical  training;  and  thus  we  exact  fidel- 


18  LOVE  NECB8SABILY  ACCOMPANIED  BY  FIDELITY.  313 

ity  without  feeling  ourselves  laid  under  obligations  of 
reciprocity.  The  most  convincing  proof  that  fidelity  is 
not  exacted  by  the  natural  aim  of  love,  the  interest  of  re- 
production, but  is  a  condition  artificially  implanted  in 
humanity,  an  outcome  of  self-love,  vanity  and  selfishness 
is  this  very  lack  of  reciprocity.  If  it  were  a  matter  of 
organic  necessity,  the  fidelity  of  the  husband  would  be  an 
obligation  as  inviolable  as  the  fidelity  of  the  wife;  but  as  it 
is  only  a  matter  of  succeeded  egotism,  the  egotism  of  the 
strong  in  conquering  the  egotism  of  the  weak  in  the 
course  olthe  development  of  customs  and  morality,  and 
as  the  husband  is  the  stronger,  he  has  been  able  to  adapt 
and  form  laws,  customs,  opinions  and  sentiment  to  his 
own  advantage  and  to  the  prejudice  of  the  wife.  He  de- 
mands unconditional  fidelity  from  his  wife  but  does  not 
concede  to  her  the  right  to  demand  the  same  from  him. 
When  she  forgets  herself,  she  has  committed  a  deadly  sin, 
whose  lightest  penalty  is  public  contempt;  when  he  does 
the  same,  he  has  only  been  guilty  of  a  charming  little 
lapse  from  duty  for  which  the  law  has  no  penalty,  at 
which  society  smiles  discreetly  and  good-naturedly,  and 
which  the  wife  pardons  with  tears  and  caresses  if  she  took 
it  seriously  in  the  first  place.  And  the  unfairness  of  this 
dual  standard  is  increased  by  the  circumstance  that  in 
reality,  it  is  not  the  same  whether  the  husband  or  the  wife 
is  guilty  of  infidelity;  for  if  the  wife  sins,  she  is  passive 
in  the  matter — led  astray  by  a  man,  that  is,  a  power  in- 
dependent of  her  will;  she  succumbs  to  a  force,  which  is 
stronger  than  her  powers  of  resistance;  but  when  the 
husband  sins,  he  is  not  passive;  he  sins  because  he  wishes 
to  sin;  there  are  very  few  Josephs  outside  of  the  Bible, 
and  a  Mrs.  Potiphar  is  a  rarity;  the  man  takes  the  initia- 
tive in  sin,  he  goes  in  quest  of  it,  and  commits  it  with 
concentrated  purpose  and  premeditation,  with  energy  and 


314  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIB. 

in  spite  of  the  resistance  offered  to  him.  India  is  the 
scene  of  the  utmost  extension  of  this  power  of  the  sheer 
egotism  of  the  husband.  In  that  country  he  considers  his 
possession  of  his  wife  as  so  absolute,  he  carries  his  exact- 
ion of  fidelity  to  such  an  horrible  extreme,  as  to  compel 
the  widow,  and  even  the  betrothed,  to  take  her  place  be- 
side her  dead  husband  or  fiance  upon  the  funeral  pyre; 
while  the  husband  whose  wife  has  just  died  is  not 
obliged  to  hurt  a  hair  of  his  head,  but  can  return  from 
the  funeral  to  enter  a  new  nuptial  chamber  if  he  wishes, 
without  offending  propriety.  The  selfishness  of  the  hus- 
band has  not  assumed  quite  such  a  destructive  phase  in 
Europe.  Only  a  few  sentimental,  hysterical  romancers 
have  risen  to  the  height  of  exacting  a  fidelity  which 
would  continue  to  exist  after  the  death  of  the  loved  one, 
and  portray  moon-struck  lovers  who  condemn  themselves 
to  eternal  mourning  and  continence,  because  they  can  not 
marry  the  beloved  being  on  account  of  death  or  other 
obstacles.  These  visionaries  are  at  least  fair  enough  to 
lay  the  decree  of  this  obligation  upon  both  sexes  alike, 
and  their  Toggenburgs  are  as  often  men  as  women.  Their 
common  sense  readers  however,  do  not  believe  in  these 
romantic  beings  and  consider  any  one  in  real  life  who 
tries  to  imitate  them,  a  morbid,  degenerate  creature  who 
tries  to  make  a  poetical  virtue  out  of  the  necessity  of  the 
pathological  condition  of  their  body  or  mind.  The  morals 
of  Christendom  concede  the  facts,  both  in  practice  and 
theory,  that  love  can  cease  to  exist,  that  one  can  love  re- 
peatedly and  that  fidelity  need  not  survive  love,  for  they 
allow  the  remarriage  of  widows  and  widowers  to  take 
place  and  accept  the  new  relations  as  perfectly  moral  and 
above  the  criticism  of  society.  If  at  any  time  and  in  any 
place,  the  wife  had  been  more  powerful  than  the  husband, 
ther*»  is  no  doubt  but  that  all  our  conceptions  of  fidelity 


NATURAL  DURATION  OP  LOVE.          315 

would  have  assumed  another  shape.  Then  the  indiscretion 
of  the  wife  would  have  been  a  fascinating  weakness,  which 
would  partake  somewhat  of  the  character  of  a  joke,  while 
the  inconstancy  of  the  husband  would  have  a  tragic  sig- 
nificance. Society  in  such  a  case  would  exact  of  man  the 
same  chastity  outside  of  the  marriage  relation  and 
especially  before  the  marriage,  as  it  now  exacts  of  woman. 
Don  Juan  would  then  be  Donna  Juanna  and  in  the  theatre 
we  would  shed  tears  over  the  death  of  that  poor,  innocent 
Othello,  strangled  by  the  fuiious,  jealous  Desdernona. 

I  am  well  aware  of  the  enormous  difficulties  in  the 
way  of  solving  peremptorily  the  problem  of  the  fidelity 
and  natural  permanence  of  love,  with  our  present  customs 
and  morals.  If  we  examine  the  life  of  the  higher  animals, 
we  can  not  fail  to  observe  that  the  passion  of  the  male  for 
the  female  only  lasts  during  the  courtship  or  at  the  most, 
during  the  time  which  we  might  call  the  honey-moon,  and 
that  reciprocal  fidelity,  which  only  exists  at  all  in  a  few 
isolated  species,  does  not  survive  the  birth  of  the  young. 
No  matter  how  violently  our  pride  as  human  beings  may 
recoil,  we  are  yet  constrained  to  seek  for  truth  in  these 
analogies  from  the  animal  kingdom,  which  is  governed  by 
the  same  vital  laws  as  the  human  race,  which  differs  from 
it  biologically,  in  no  particular,  if  we  wish  to  know  what 
attributes  are  natural  and  necessary,  and  what  are  arti- 
ficial and  arbitrary.  This  method  of  comparison  would 
lead  us  to  the  conclusion  that  love  exhausts  itself  in  the 
effort  to  reach  its  aim  and  in  the  accomplishment  of  its 
purpose,  as  hunger  ceases  to  exist  when  the  desire  for 
food  is  gratified,  and  that  even  for  woman,  one  act  in  the 
drama  of  love  comes  to  a  complete  close  with  the  birth  of 
the  child,  so  that  she  can  enter  upon  a  new  act  with  an 
entirely  different  cast  of  roles.  If  this  is,  as  it  appear*  to 
oe,  the  true  and  natural  condition  of  this  human  senti- 


316  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIB. 

ment,  then  the  permanent  single  marriage  has  no  organic 
justification,  it  must  become  after  the  honey- moon  in 
most  cases,  or  after  the  birth  of  the  child,  an  empty  form 
and  a  lie,  and  lead  to  conflicts  between  inclination  and 
du  jy  even  when  it  was  originally  contracted  from  love. 
Of  course  a  multitude  of  arguments  array  themselves  at 
once  against  this  conclusion  whose  logical  sequence  could 
only  be  the  abolition  of  the  institution  of  matrimony  and 
a  return  to  the  uncontrolled  mating  of  the  animal  world. 
The  chief  of  these  arguments  is  this:  It  may  be  true  that 
man  is  polygamous  according  to  his  natural  instincts,  that 
he  experiences  an  impulse  within  him  to  enter  into  inti- 
mate relations  simultaneously  or  in  succession,  with  more 
than  one  individual  of  the  opposite 'sex;  but  he  has  also 
other  instincts  and  it  is  the  task  of  civilization  to  educate 
the  will  of  man  so  th  it  he  can  subdue  and  suppress  his  in- 
stincts when  he  learns  to  know  that  they  are  wrong.  Un- 
fortunately this  argument  is  not  convincing;  for  it  must 
first  be  proved  that  the  polygamous  instinct  would  be  in- 
jurious to  the  preservation  and  development  of  mankind, 
as  this  would  be  the  sole  foundation  for  calling  it  wrong; 
in  addition  it  gives  us  cause  for  reflection  as  we  realize 
that  our  civilization,  which  has  succeeded  in  subduing 
other  instincts,  has  never  yet  succeeded  in  suppressing1 
the  polygamous  instinct,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the 
church  threatens  it  with  the  torments  of  hell,  the  law  con- 
demns it  and  our  conventional  morality  declares  that  it  is 
indecent;  man  lives  in  a  state  of  polygamy  in  the  civil- 
ized countries  in  spite  of  the  monogamy  enforced  by  the 
laws;  out  of  a  hundred  thousand  men  there  would  barely 
be  one  who  could  swear  upon  his  death-bed  that  he  had 
never  known  but  one  single  woman  during  his  whole  life; 
and  if  the  principles  of  monogamy  are  more  strictly  ob- 
served by  women,  it  is  not  because  they  have  never  had 


ARGUMENTS  IN  FAVOR  OF  MONOGAMY.  31? 

any  inclination  to  disregard  them,  but  because  our  con- 
ventional morality  keeps  a  sharper  lookout  upon  woman's 
conduct  and  punishes  her  lapses  more  severely  than  man's 
— an  instinct  however,  which  is  so  relentlessly  attacked  by 
the  laws  and  morality,  and  which  makes  such  a  successful 
resistance  to  them,  must  have  much  deeper  and  more  solid 
foundations  than  those  others  over  which  civilization  has  ob- 
tained control.  Another  argument  has  more  weight:  Human 
love  although  principally  nothing  more  than  the  impulse 
for  the  possession  of  a  certain  individual  with  the  purpose 
of  reproduction,  is  yet  something  more;  it  is  an  enjoy- 
ment of  the  intellectual  qualities  of  the  beloved  being;  it 
is  also  friendship.  This  element  of  love  survives  its 
physiological  element.  Certain  it  is,  that  the  sentiment 
felt  for  the  loved  one  is  not  the  same  after  possession,  as 
it  was  before.  But  it  is  a  profound  and  powerful  senti- 
ment still,  sufficient  to  form  the  foundation  for  the  desire 
and  even  for  the  necessity  of  a  life-long  union  whose 
justification  is  no  longer  the  natural  aim  of  marriage,  re- 
production, but  the  want  experienced  by  an  intellectually 
more  highly  developed  individual  for  companionship  with 
one  of  similar  culture.  Even  in  the  most  constant  hearts, 
even  when  the  original  passion  was  the  most  violent  con- 
ceivable, love  undergoes  this  transformation  after  the 
honey-moon  or  after  the  birth  of  the  first  child;  it  is  still 
far  from  considering  the  yoke  of  matrimony  a  burden,  but 
yet  it  is  by  no  means  a  perfectly  safe  protection  against 
the  outbreak  of  a  new  passion.  But  there  are  other  cir- 
cumstances which  aid  the  will  in  its  struggle  with  t 
polygamous  instinct.  When  the  union  of  two  persons,  whc 
ffave  evidence  of  their  natures  being  harmoniously  attuned 
Leach  other  to  a  certain  degree,  by  loving  for  a  bnef 
period,  has  lasted  a  while  it  becomes  a  habit,  wh.ch  sus- 
tains  fidelity  most  wonderfully.  They  perhaps,  after  . 


318  THB  1VLATRIMON1AL  LIB. 

time,  cease  to  experience  the  slightest  love  or  even  friend- 
ship for  each  other,  but  their  companionship  is  still  kept 
up,  and  kept  up  as  a  matter  of  course.  As  in  the  process 
of  petrefaction,  all  the  original  particles  of  the  root  of  a 
tree  for  instance,  gradually  disappear  and  are  replaced  by 
particles  of  quite  different,  earthy  matter,  which  yet  take 
the  exact  place  of  the  crowded  out,  organic  molecules  and 
leave  the  general  outline  unchanged,  until  there  is  abso- 
lutely nothing  left  of  the  original  matter,  without  the  out- 
ward appearance  of  the  root  having  suffered  the  least 
alteration,  in  this  process  of  transformation  of  the  senti- 
ments tiny,  imperceptible  atoms  of  habit  replace  the 
atoms  of  love  as  they  vanish,  so  that  when  the  love  has 
entirely  passed  out  of  existence,  the  outward  form  of  the 
union  remains  undisturbed — even  if  this  form  is  cold,  stiff 
and  dead,  it  is  all  the  more  permanent  and  capable  of  re- 
sistance. If  the  union  is  blessed  with  children  the  tender- 
ness of  the  parents  is  diverted  to  them  and  a  new  love 
springs  up  in  their  hearts  which  twines  around  both 
parents  and  unites  them  once  more,  as  a  vine  joins  two 
neighboring  trees  together  with  its  luxuriant  growth  and 
covers  them  with  foliage  and  blossoms,  although  they  may 
be  already  dead  and  rotten  at  the  core.  Moreover,  as  the 
years  pass  the  impulse  to  love  grows  weaker,  from  natural 
causes,  and  even  if  the  germs  of  new  attractions  do  not 
die  out  or  vanish,  it  becomes  easier  every  year  for  the  will 
and  judgment  to  prevent  their  development.  There  re- 
mains finally  after  the  dawn  of  love  has  passed  away,  a 
sweet  and  deep  memory  of  it  through  the  remaining  hours 
of  the  day  of  life,  which  produces  a  sensation  of  gratitude 
to  the  one  loved  once  so  dearly,  and  impels  the  two  hearts 
to  cling  to  each  other  still.  On  account  of  all  these 
reasons  it  may  be  practicable  to  mate  human  beings 
monogamically  for  life,  even  if  their  disposition  of  mind  or 


D1VOECE8.  319 

body  seems  to  indicate  that  they  were  primally  destined 
to  a  number  of  contemporaneous  or  succeeding  relations. 
There  will  however,  always  be  numerous  cases  in  which 
nothing  can  prevent  the  outbreak  of  a  new  passion,  not 
the  friendship  which  accompanies  love,  nor  the  gratitude 
which  it  leaves  behind  it,  nor  habit,  nor  riper  years,  nor 
the  bonds  of  the  parental  share  and  interest  in  the  ex- 
istence of  the  children;  in  these  cases  the  obligation  of 
fidelity  should  be  removed  and  the  marriage  cease  in  form 
as  well  as  in  spirit.  Society  concedes  the  possibility  of  such 
cases  and  has  introduced  the  institution  of  divorce  in  the 
most  progressive  countries.  But  nature  has  not  yet  attained 
her  rights  by  its  aid.  The  hypocritical  prejudices  which 
cling  still  so  closely  to  the  theory  of  strict  monogamy, 
pursue  the  divorced  parties  and  cast  a  shadow  of  disgrace 
upon  them,  which  stigmatizes  them  as  no  longer  perfectly 
respectable  people. 

This  causes  timid  and  weak  natures  to  prefer  the  lie 
to  the  truth,  to  choose  infidelity  to  the  marriage  contract 
rather  than  an  honorable  dissolution  of  it,  and  to  avoid 
the  social  destiny  of  divorces  by  continuing  to  seek  shel- 
ter in  the  defiled  and  guilty  wedlock.  Society  must  learn 
to  consider  a  divorced  couple  as  exceptionally  courageous 
and  truth-loving  natures  who  would  not  condescend  to  a 
compromise  with  their  conscience  but  broke  the  form 
with  decision  as  soon  as  the  substance  had  ceased  to  exist 
and  their  natural  feelings  rebelled  against  it.  Not  until 
this  view  of  the  matter  becomes  generally  accepted  will 
the  human  heart  get  its  rights,  marriage  become  once 
more  a  true  and  sacred  institution,  wantonness  and  fick 
ness  be  deprived  of  their  pretext  of  love,  and  conjugal 
infidelity  become  a  disgusting  crime  which  only  the  mo* 
vulgar  and  depraved  natures  will  commit. 

The  problem  that  we  have  last  been  investigating  * 


320  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIB. 

whether  an  union  with  a  single  person  and  for  life,  is 
adapted  to  the  nature  of  man,  even  if  it  was  entered  into 
originally  only  from  love.  But  how  far  are  we  removed 
from  a  condition  in  which  society  would  be  in  need  of 
such  an  investigation!  Before  we  can  proceed  to  the 
solution  of  the  extremely  anthropological  problem  as  to 
whether  an  human  being  can  love  but  once,  and  whether 
his  mating  instinct  ought  only  to  be  exercised  upon  one 
single  individual  of  the  opposite  sex,  it  must  first  of  all  be 
settled  that  love  should  be  the  antece  ient  of  marriage 
and  that  the  official  bond  must  resuh  from  a  mutual 
attraction  of  both  parties,  existing  at  least  at  the  moment 
in  which  it  is  imposed.  But  the  present  economic  organi- 
zation of  society  is  in  direct  opposition  to  such  a  state  of 
affairs.  As  long  as  man  is  not  sure  of  always  finding 
work  to  do  and  by  it  securing  an  acceptable  competency, 
he  will  seek  to  promote  his  material  interests  by  marriage 
or,  if  he  can  not  accomplish  this,  he  will  avoid  it  and  pre- 
fer the  gross  gratifications  which  prostitution  offers  him  or 
else  temporary  liaisons  which  impose  little  or  no  responsi- 
bility upon  him.  And  as  long  as  woman  is  constrained 
to  look  upon  matrimony  as  the  only  career  and  means  of 
support  open  to  her,  she  will  rush  into  it  without  asking 
about  love,  and  as  a  consequence  be  either  fearfully  un- 
happy or  else  become  a  moral  wreck.  The  miserable  lot 
to  which  these  conditions  condemn  woman  in  particular,  is 
not  improved  nor  changed  by  the  quacks  who  recommend 
the  emancipation  of  woman  as  a  cure  for  this  severest  of 
the  diseases  of  society.  I  will  not  enter  upon  a  searching 
criticism  of  this  theory  of  woman's  emancipation,  only  re- 
marking in  a  few  words  that  the  struggle  for  existence 
would  assume  phases  even  more  ghastly  than  at  present, 
if  both  sexes  stood  upon  the  same  plane  of  equality.  If 
woman  should  become  the  serious  rival  of  man  in  many 


FBMALB  EMANCIPATION.  $%\ 

branches  of  industry,  she  would  as  the  weaker,  be  crushed 
without  consideration.     Gallantry  is  an  invention  of  pros- 
perity and  leisure.     Want  and  hunger  destroy  this  senti- 
ment upon  which  woman  calculates  when  she  imagines  a 
world  in  which  she  could  wrestle  with  man  for  her  daily 
bread.     The   most  difficult  and  the  most  indispensable 
kinds  of  work  man  alone  must  undertake;  he  will  rate 
them  higher  than  those  performed  by  woman  and  as  at 
present,  woman's  labor  will  always  receive  a  smaller  re- 
muneration than  his.    Why?  Because  he  has  the  strength 
to  make  his  views  into  laws  and  to  accomplish  his  will; 
for  no  other  reason.     Woman   is  accorded  a  hi»h  and 
dignified   position    in    oar    civ'azation    because    she    is 
acquiescent,    because   she  is  content  to  be  the  comple- 
ment of  man  and  to  acknowledge  his  material  supremacy. 
In  fact,  if  she  attempts  to  question  it,  she  is  soon  com- 
pelled to  recognize  its  actuality.     The  fully  emancipated 
woman,  entirely  independent  of  man  and  in  many  cases 
his  enemy  when  their   conflicting  interests  clash,  must 
soon  be  crowded  into  the  corner.     It  is  in  such  a  case  a 
genuine  wrestling  match,  and  there  can  be  no  question  as 
to  which  would  succumb  first.     This  emancipation  would 
bring  man  and  woman  necessarily  into  the  relation  of  a 
higher  and  lower  race — for  man  is  better  equipped  for 
the  struggle  for  existence  and  competency  than  woraai> 
— with  the  result  that  the  latter  would  be  brought  into  a 
far  worse  condition  of  dependence  and  slavery  than  that 
condition  from  which  this  emancipation  is  to-  release  her. 
The  aim  of  the   emancipation   preachers  is  to  make  it 
possible  for  woman  to  live  without  man  and  to  renounce 
matrimony.     This  method  of  curing  the  evil  is  about  as 
efficacious  as  that  of  some  philanthropist  who  might  give 
lectures  during  a  time  of  famine  on  the  subject  of  how 
man  could  be  weaned  most  effectually  from  the  habit  of 


322  THE  MATRIMONIAL  LIE. 

eating.  The  question  would  be  then,  how  to  supply  the 
hungry  with  food,  not  how  to  teach  them  to  do  without  it. 
And  the  little  band  of  self-constituted  agents  of  the  vic- 
tims of  our  civilization  ought  not  to  persuade  and  make  it 
possible  for  woman  to  renounce  marriage,  but  should  try 
to  secure  her  her  natural  share  in  the  love-life  of  humanity. 
As  I  asserted  in  the  preceding  chapter  that  it  is  the  duty 
of  society  to  care  for  its  children,  to  educate  them  com- 
pletely, and  as  often  as  is  necessary,  to  support  them 
until  they  become  capable  of  supporting  themselves,  1 
now  assert  that  it  is  the  duty  of  society  to  protect  woman, 
its  most  valuable  breeding  material,  against  physical  want. 
The  community  owes  protection  and  support  to  woman. 
Man's  role  in  the  life  of  the  species  is  that  of  the  bread, 
winner,  the  preserver  and  defender  of  the  living  genera- 
tion; woman's  role  is  that  of  the  preserver  and  defender 
of  the  future  generations,  the  improver  of  the  race  by 
natural  selection,  as  she  excites  strife  between  the  men,  of 
which  she  is  the  prize  and  in  which  the  ablest  competitors 
secure  the  most  valuable  spoils.  As  a  child  the  girl 
should  receive  the  advantages  of  the  public  education  of 
the  young,  and  later,  if  it  is  necessary,  she  should  be  en- 
titled to  complete  support,  either  in  her  parents'  house  or 
in  a  separate  home  of  her  own.  Society  should  look  upon 
it  as  a  disgrace  if  any  woman,  young  or  old,  beautiful  or 
ugly,  should  feel  the  pangs  of  want  in  any  civilized  com- 
munity. In  a  society  reorganized  upon  these  principles, 
in  which  woman  would  have  no  anxiety  in  regard  to  her 
daily  bread,  knowing  that  she  is  protected  from  want  in 
any  case,  whether  married  or  single,  in  which  the  children 
would  be  supported  and  educated  by  the  community,  in 
which  man  could  not  expect  to  buy  as  many  women  with 
his  money  as  he  wants,  because  hunger  would  no  longer 
be  his  go-between,  in  such  a  society  woman  would  soon 


HOW  MARRIAGK  CAH  BECOME  A  TRUTH.  323 

from  genuine  affection,  alone  the  spectacle  of  old 
maids  who  have  found  no  husbands,  would  be  as  rare  as 
that  of  old  bachelors,  who  enjoy  in  their  free,  licentious 
life  all  the  pleasures  with  none  of  the  moral  burdens  or 
limitations  of  matrimony,  and  prostitution  would  only  be 
practiced  by  a  small  number  of  degenerate  beings  who 
can  only  breathe  in  corruption  and  infamy  and  whose  un- 
bridled impulses  are  without  the  slightest  valuo  for  the 
preservation  of  the  species.  When  material  considerations 
enter  no  longer  into  the  contracting  of  a  marriage,  when 
woman  is  free  to  choose  and  is  not  compelled  to  sell  her- 
self, when  man  is  obliged  to  compote  for  woman's  favor 
with  his  personality  and'not  with  his  social  position  and 
property,  then  the  institution  of  matrimony  will  become  a 
truth  instead  of  the  lie  it  is  now,  the  sacred  and  sublime 
spirit  of  nature  will  bless  every  embrace,  every  child  will 
b»  born  surrounded  by  the  love  of  its  parents  as  with  a 
halo,  and  will  receive,  as  its  firs>t  birthday  present,  the 
Strength  and  vitality  with  which  every  couple  that  has 
been  formed  by  the  attraction  of  affinity  endows  ite  off' 
spring. 


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